hey boss i can't come in today it's a sunny day and there's a lovely breeze coming in through my window, yeah it's rustling the branches of the tree outside that's finally bloomed so it's pretty serious
Saw a post about working class butches in physical labour jobs and wanted to make my own, so: I love you butches who do childcare or early education. I love you butch nurses. I love you butch house cleaners and janitorial staff. I love you service industry butches. I love you butches who do sex work. I love you working class butches who do “feminine” jobs you are cool as hell
as a masc, there's something about interlacing my fingers with a femme's that is so personal to me because the contrast of our hands, the shape and feel of them, look so good together. something about my blunt nails and angular fingers against your painted nails and softer hands is so precious and gorgeous.
we're two separate beings, but then we can be in a state where we're so wrapped up in each other we can hardly tell where we start and end, yet here, with our hands clasped, i see how different we are, yet so wholly connected we remain.
i think about rubbing my thumb over the curve of her thumb, slow and steady, just so she knows i'm here, that i'm a constant. i think about holding out my hand asking do you trust me? and she might say yes and i'll hold her hand like i'm a knight, a prince, asking her to dance. my thumb will swipe over her knuckles, and my lips will brush against them too. my lady.
it's the most minimalistic way to be physically touching, and i think it's beautiful that there are so many different ways and reasons we can be holding hands.