My guy and I aren't into public displays of affection. Yes, we're out and all that, but somehow our love is so precious and personal that we prefer to keep it for ourselves. PDAs seem to trivialise our bond...make it cheap, almost.
We give each other an unmistakably sexual kiss whenever we welcome or fare each other well at an airport, or such. But we generally don't hold hands in public...I couldn't convince him to hold hands walking down the street in Provincetown, even. Call us repressed, fucked up, whatever.
We often joke about wanting a gay marriage, but hating the idea of a gay wedding--the consummate PDA. I don't think we could bear making such a spectacle of ourselves--dancing, holding hands, and the inevitable moment where you-may-now-kiss-the-groom.
Once the door is closed, though, it's a different matter. "Home" is where we connect, where flesh meets flesh, where we bare our bodies. We touch, in some way, constantly. OK, I leave him alone when he's using a wok and he leaves me alone when I take out the trash. But otherwise, we're all over each other, 24/7. That's what defines "home" for us.
When do we hold hands? In private moments.
Discreetly, in the back seat of a cab. When I'm driving, I rest my hand on the gear lever, and he rests his own atop it (This worked much better when we lived in Japan rather than the USA. I could keep my favoured hand on the steering wheel).
And, oddly, in bed. We go to sleep, bodies entwined. But after a while, guys being guys, our limbs flail about and we're all over the bed. A couple of times a night, his hand reaches out for mine, and generally finds it. He squeezes my hand, so we know the contact isn't a chance meeting of body parts. No matter how many times he does this, it's always precious to me. I feel incredibly loved.
Not something I want to repeat in the A&P, personally.
HB8
P.S. Profuse apologies for not looking you up in P-Town, Stronzo. It was a whirlwind visit! Next time, though...