I happened across a post on the What Does It Mean To Be Dominant blog (cunting wordpress won’t show links for some stupidly twattish reason, so I can’t directly link it) on hand holding, and for a very brief moment remembered everything I *used* to hate about having someone(well ok, a specific someone) hold my hand.
The revulsion, the desire to grab my hand back and away out of reach, the crippling need to escape from the overwhelming intimacy of it. All these things stem from a time now, thankfully, long gone.
Until I read this post, it hadn’t occurred to me, or rather I hadn’t remembered, that I used to have a problem with this.
It’s only when I have these little flashbacks that I realise just how far removed I am now from those cold, cold days when everything was grey and bleak.
It also makes me smile that these days, I rarely have these flashbacks at all.