The Life That Is Mine

The touch of a man. What is it about the touch of a man that evokes within me such powerful feelings and such intense desire?
I am not even talking about the sexual aspect of being with a man. I am also not talking about the touch of just any man.
It is certain individuals, whom when wrapped in their arms and pressed against their skin can overwhelm me with such a sense of calm and comfort…can momentarily make me feel so content. Much more importantly, what is it about these individuals that allow me to compromise myself…to block out those gut feeling…those feelings that are trying to tell me that this is not the wonderful person that I would like to believe it is?
Why do I cling to those brief, fleeting moments of happiness? How do I still allow myself to lower my guard? I have an exceptionally strong distrust in men…and yet I continue to hope. Hope for what? Sometimes, I think I simply hope for hope.
Most of the time, I am completely hopeless…and yet I continue to jump at the mere opportunity to hope…and to genuinely believe in that hope. To hope that I will obtain the touch of a man…whose touch I will have forever…whose touch is genuine…real…honest…whose touch is not touching another woman.
Hopeful…or hopeless…my stance jumps back and forth as if the ball in a never-ending tennis match . What is it about the touch of a man?