Affection

For the long labor-day weekend, Christopher wanted to go on a road trip and get out of town again. After examining our bank accounts, however, we realized we would not be able to go as far as we wanted. We got up early on Saturday morning and looked at a map of the state and chose the same mountain town we went to years ago.

On the way there, I made the executive decision to stop at BabyLand General Hopsital. It's one of my fondest childhood memories. It hasn't been touched in any way since it's inception in the 1970's and it's cheesey enough to warrant a visit as an adult. Christopher didn't protest, but he did get bored as we waited for the main event which takes place intermittantly. Visitors get to watch new Cabbage Patch dolls being born by the magic crystal tree in the cabbage patch and, obviously, dolls can't be born on a schedule.

The lights dimmed and we grabbed the last two spots against the wall so as to not look interested. Meanwhile the parents and children gathered round with their camcorders and cameras to ooh and ahh. The funniest part was during the actual birth, Christopher stood up on his toes to watch and get a good view. I fell over in giggles. This 35-year-old man got caught up in the fake birth of a doll. Moments like these for me are endearing.

Afterwards we headed into town. We found this Margaritaville-style bar that overlooks the water and we grabbed mugs of beer to watch the people below us tube down the river. Only this part of the river was rather shallow and the tubers carried sticks with them to propel them when they get stuck on the rocks. It was pretty hilarious to watch.

I hadn't tried to hold Christopher's hand again since the slapdown I received at Medieval Times. The couple next to us were acting all lovey dovey and forever in front of us and it brought it back to my mind.

I wiped the foam off the top of my beer mug. "Why aren't you
affectionate?" I asked. I swear, swear, swear I've already had this conversation with him in which he said he was, but I'm beginning to think that conversation was similar to the one about my pink silk scarf—something he said in the beginning so I would like him.

"I already told you," he said, a little exasperated.

"No!" my voice got high pitched. "You said you were!"

"Really?" he said equally as high pitched and surprised. I guess my suspicions were confirmed.

Christopher paused. "It makes me uncomfortable," he eventually answered.

"Well I need it," I announced.

"Why?"

Below us a group of tubers got so frustrated about being stuck on the rocks that they picked up their tubes and walked downstream. I was shocked to see the water was about shin-deep. We laughed and I looked over at Christopher and thought about how attracted I am to him and I thought about the blog and gauged how honest was I really going to be with him.

"It's so comforting. I carry tightness and anxiety in my chest most of the time and physical contact relaxes me."

I took a deep breath and continued. "A few years ago I was getting my hair cut, and the girl accidentally grazed the nape of my neck as she was combing my hair. The touch gave me chills and I couldn't fingure out why until I realized it was the first time I had been touched by another human being in months. And then there I was, sitting in the chair at this expensive salon fighting back tears."

Christopher looked away, "That's weird."

"No, it's not weird," I corrected. "It's sad." I shuffled my plastic mug on the wooden plank table and looked over at him, "Haven't you ever been lonely?"

Christopher locked eyes with me and we entered another one of those unintentional staring contests as he tried to decide how honest to be with me.

"Yes," he answered. He wasn't meek with his revelation.

I was satisfied enough and went back to watching the tubers. Christopher stared straight ahead as he reached his hand behind my back and brushed my hair off the nape of my neck and then went back to drinking his beer.

I smiled.