Ten weeks it had been. Well, actually 10 weeks and 2 days to be exact. Not that I was counting. It was a personal best, or probably more like a personal worst. The longest I had ever gone without human touch. My skin craved it. The feeling of bathwater on my body helped a little, but whilst it had the warmth of human touch, it lacked the ability to squeeze me tight.
We met online. Lockdown meant that our early days were more akin to old-fashioned courting than any previous experience I had had of Tinder. You asked if I was okay. Not ‘How are you?” but “Are you okay?” and I knew right then that you were different, that this was different. You cared for me in a way that I finally felt I deserved.
Our first meeting is engrained in my mind like initials carved in the bark of a tree. We’d barely said hello and we were in each other’s arms, holding each other so tight. We spent the rest of the day in much the same way, walking along the coastline, intermittently stopping for another oxytocin hit.
It’s been 5 months now and so much has happened. A first kiss, a first sleepover, cooking together, laughing together, crying together, meeting friends and families, a first holiday together, and so many dreams for the future. We still hold each other tight, and we will never take the ability to be close for granted.
2020 has been a difficult year, no doubt, but the silver linings are so bright, my lockdown love.