I go back into the party to find my friends and decide to say goodnight to him. I snake my way through the room of bopping artists and pop my head into the den but, not seeing him, I decide to make tracks. As I turn, a hand pulls me back. It’s him. Without thinking, I link my arms around his neck. We hold each other for moments. When we let go I tell him I wanted to say goodnight. He says, “I know. I saw you.” And how did he know he was the one I was looking for? We smile. As I leave, our hands linger down each other’s arms until they’re clasped. We hold on until we have to let go.
This is a lovely, unexpected experience regardless of the outcome.
I write about men a lot and sometimes this makes me feel vapid and ungrounded. But maybe I’m just always writing about intimacy. Even if it’s just for a moment at a party with someone whose name I don’t remember.