Around the dinner table with my Norman, Oklahoma friends (a group known by several names, such as The Thirty Something Group [despite the fact that we aren’t 30-something any more], The Breadmaker Group, and The Bohemian Continuum) a couple of weeks ago, I revealed a not very secret secret that those closest to me, like my wife, already know: I look at women’s hands, kind of obsessively. I related a story about having these feelings in third grade, explaining to them that when Mrs. Dzialo was at the front of the room, I stared at her hands, particularly that fold that forms just behind the little finger when hands are closed. It looked really sexy to me, in the way an eight-year-old sees sexy.
When I was done with this story, Thea said, “So, you’ve always been a creep?”
After the laughter died down, I said, “Yes. Yes I have.”.