A hug you give somebody that you love – your partner, best friend, or a family member – when you are reunited with them after a long period of time. This hug might be set at the airport arrivals door, the suitcase handle forgotten instantly. It might be at a café before ordering an overpriced coffee together. Or it might be at a wake: a tear-filled and much-needed bone-crushing embrace. Whatever the case, if your limbs do not feel internally bruised, you are doing it wrong.
A crowd packed in, like sardines after attending a concert. While yeah, it is fucking annoying in the moment and you’d rather be home in the comfort of your toasty bed, there is a real sense of togetherness in the squished space. Glitter and the remnants of feather boas coat the concrete, and on the journey home a horde of people are singing that crowd classic: “HEYYYYYYY, HEY BABY! OOH! AHH! I WANNA KNOWOWOWOWWW IF YOU’LL BE MY GIRL!” It’s irresistible every time, and cracks a smile on the faces of drained parents and young punks alike.
“If a boy pulls your hair or pinches you, it means he likes you!” Please. A calculated lie that leaves teary-eyed little girls glancing up at the moon, begging to know why the cute boy from school shows affection in such a vile way. Little girls that become young women, prepared to tolerate the ugly behaviours of grown men. Yet young women that secretly still beg the midnight skies for answers. The moon does not change its face.
When you unclench your fist – not realising you were holding a fist – and your partner takes the opportunity to intertwine their hand with yours. A rush of blood shoots down to your hand, and it pulses with excitement. You then feel an urge to run, clasping your partner’s hand as you do so. Like the zoomies, like seeing a cute doe-eyed animal on the other side of the footpath, there is a need to yank. Your partner must inspect the creature instantly.