Lionel

Herself speaks.

This afternoon, the Pandora station cycled through some classics from the 1980s, including Lionel Richie, Hello. Ah, that takes me so far back.

It reminds me of various camp/school dances from Way Back When: it is exactly the type of sentimental, slow song that we adolescents yearned for, to provide an excuse to hold our crushes-of-the-moment and sway. Remember that moment of panic when a fast song would end, the music would slow down, and we had to decide: say 'thank you' and walk away, or take a chance on a slow dance? Take that chance!

For us girls, there was always the quandary of where exactly to put our hands. There were two options: around his neck, or around his waist. The safest place was around his waist, ideally on the inside when his arms were around our waist; having arms on the inside ensured that we could better fend off wandering hands. (Because yes, the boys would sometimes slowly creep their hands toward our fronts, somehow imagining they could cop a feel of our breasts right there on the dance floor. Some judicious elbow-work could prevent that.) To put arms around his neck was a far more vulnerable position and required a level of trust of -- or perhaps, of desire for -- the boy.

Those innocent days, when standing close enough to lightly touch someone was sufficient to make us blush and our hearts beat wildly. I miss those days. And slow dancing, too.