Strong Hands

There’s something about a man with strong hands and fingers that show muscles and veins. To me a man needs to have strong hands, there must be signs of hard work. Women with strong hands are equally sexy to me although it’s a different kind of sexiness. I can be extremely put off by a guy with seemingly ‘soft’ hands, and the look and feel of those of a woman. It just doesn’t seem right, a man needs to have large muscular hands and preferably muscular arms too, period. What makes it worse is feminine hands in combination with jewellery: cringing.

I have no clue what caused this engrained ‘prejudice’ (or preference if you like) but I do remember something from my past that might have to do with it. When I was a little girl my dad used to work different shifts, sometimes he would come home late and I’d be in bed already, other times he would be home early. Those particular times he would count all the change which he kept in a large purse that he carried with him all day. He’d put it all on the table and make small stacks of coins which he counted after arranging them. It was almost like his daily Zen ritual.

When he was done counting he’d put the money back in the purse and take a kip. This was the moment where I would usually climb on his lap so we would have a kip together. But not before he’d put his large hand over my face to tease me. He would hold it there until I started to laugh and I’d try to push it away but of course I could never manage as his hand was huge compared to my face and he was way stronger. I could smell gasoline, tabaco and coins on his hand and up to this day I have fond memories of this. It was one of his loving teasing games he would play.

So I guess this is where I’ve gotten this preference for strong masculine hands. They ‘ought to’ smell of gasoline and tabaco. They ‘ought to’ show marks of hard labour and raised vains. I guess it also has something to do with feeling protected and comforted. At times when I’m on my daily commute to work I notice men with effiminate features, I’ve realised that I often check out their hands as this would give me an impression of what type of person it is. This morning I saw this guy sitting opposite of me who had small feminine hands and was wearing way too many golden rings.

I realised I was seriously put off by it, which made me contemplate about the reason why. It seems I’m not an exception as studies have been done about the topic by different scientists and they offer some kind of explanation as to why people have certain preferences. I was happy to read that it has nothing to do with shallowness, I’m very aware of the flaws I have ;) but this particular issue seems to be based on a scientifically approved justification. So next time I’ll notice something that makes me seriously cringe, I’ll politely look away and instead play a silly game on my phone…

The Unsent Letter

I’ve had this odd urgent feeling for a few weeks now, telling me that I need to write a letter to get closure on some things that never had closure. I was planning on sending it but I’ve changed my mind. I don’t think it will make a difference whether I’d send it or not, the message that I’m trying to get across, that I have been trying to get across for a long long time, won’t be acknowledged. I guess I just have to learn to accept that I can’t make a blind person see if this person is not willing to open his eyes. A shame really because deep down I care and I might be even hoping still that my message will get across.

Here’s my letter:

Over the last two years people I cared about passed away. In one week I lost two uncles, half a year later my favourite aunt. I had to find out thru the announcement I received three weeks after the fact, since she only wanted her immediate family at the funeral. Not even her sister. Then there’s an ex who had a cardiac arrest and two more family members from my dad’s side. I’ve had plenty of time to think about the past and life in general. And I feel there are things which I couldn’t explain at the time that are unresolved and need closure.

Back then, you’d opened up and showed me everything that was to know about you. All the stories from your past, a gift that I still appreciate and value no matter what you might think of me nowadays. I valued each and every one of them because they were about you and I wanted to know you. The person you’d showed me in your stories and pictures was someone who stood for something, someone who had accomplished so much, someone to be proud of. Someone who wouldn’t just give up, who was happy, smiling, content.

The person I talked to daily was a different one, one I had a hard time dealing with after a while. I tried to show you a silver lining but no matter what I did I feel I couldn’t make you see and it was starting to drag me down. After a while it felt like all I could do was listen but that should’ve been balanced: I needed someone to listen too. At first I was OK with it but after some time it was mostly a one-sided conversation without really getting opportunities to participate. So I became less talkative and instead started to shut down slowly.

The person that had to make ends meet each day was someone completely different from the one in the pictures or stories. I couldn’t deal with seeing someone struggle, someone I cared about. It made me feel inadequate and I had a lot to deal with myself at the time. I was in a place where I didn’t want to be, just like you, but instead of accepting it in a way, I fought back and although it took a while I succeeded. I came out better and stronger in every way possible which is something I’m proud of to this day.

But in order to get there I had to let go of everything that was holding me back one way or another. I needed every bit of positive energy to give to myself instead of others. I owed it to myself thus I put myself first because there was no other way to do this. Some might call it egocentric, I call it survival. I finally stood up for myself and it led to where I am today. Besides of what you might think I did not throw away any gifts. Just because I had to let go doesn’t mean I would throw out something that has been that important to me.

At times I feel sad that everything I’ve tried seems unappreciated. Resentment is an emotion that keeps you in that past, like everything else did that happened to you. It’s a refusal to let go, forgive and move on or learn. It tells me that no matter what I would’ve done, it would’ve ended like this anyway. I guess that I’m mostly disappointed with myself for expecting a tiny bit of gratitude instead. Letting go of your resentments is integral to not letting your past -read your childhood- interfere with your present.

Instead of making the right choice for yourself you cripple yourself once again.