Yesterday I met a man and his son. The man is in his late 30s and his son is 10. The man is a Columbia University Med Student. Maybe a little naive, but he’s a sweetheart. The boy has shoulder-length hair and is beautiful! His wife is in Paris. He and his son are going hiking at Acadia. I wanted to adopt them both.
It was clear the man and I were really attracted to one another. We talked all night, eyes smiling, flirting. The three of us spent the evening playing games. I miss my family too, so I let myself pretend I was his wife and his son was mine. We shared just a few hours together, but during those hours I loved them both.
When it was time to say goodbye, I was taken aback by his request for a hug. I was bracing myself for the inevitable parting of ways, keeping polite distance. But a hug? It was the closest thing to intimacy he and I would share forever. I gave it to him. A tight hug, my breasts right up against his chest, body close, arms fully around his neck. Love, no matter how briefly shared, needs more than a polite goodbye.