This brings back memory of the good old days when I was young, cute and slim.
I was helping my house mate cutting down trees in the bush (on his land) for firewoods. My shoes and socks got soaking wet from stepping into a deep puddle. It was during mid winter so it was quite cold. I bit my tongue and got the job done without complaining.
My house mate saw that I was shaking and noticed that I was freezing my butt off. So he gave me piggy back-ride back to our house for me to dry up and change socks. I was 5’10 and he was 6’3. Being carried on his back made me feel safe, at peace with myself and the world, it wasn’t sexual. I wished the piggy back ride had lasted longer, It was a short walk back to the house, about 3 to 5 minutes or so.
At that moment, I thought to myself, I need to find me a man/husband that would give me piggy back ride on the regular. That dream never came true. That was the only piggy back ride I had since then.
Now, the only ride I’ll be getting is from a mechanical lift from the bed to the floor while the poor nurse cringe in horror and doing the sign of the cross prayer - watching those poor straps stretching to the limit while hoisting me up.