Hands Off Until I Say So!, or The Evolutionary Benefits of Physical Hesitation

by Kate Surgeon, Professor, Kate State University

Yeah, ok, maybe I have been studying too much lately. But I'll say this: it's kind of cool to have a semi-quasi-pseudo-clinical perspective from which to look at my life. I can view my own behavior in light of its "evolutionary rewards" (i.e., how doing x, y or z increases the likelihood of my passing on my genes to a future generation). And, as we all learned in sixth grade health class, to pass on my genes, well, I have to have sex with you. So this theory spectacularly justifies my saying "if you do things my way, you're more likely to get into my pants."

[All right, I realize that to really do anything "evolutionary" effectively, we have to substitute my own personal history for, oh, I don't know, the history of all human beings ever. But once we've taken that (albeit huge) leap of faith, talking about the evolutionary aspect of a behavior really just speaks to whether or not this particular relationship will survive. It's survival of the fittest… for me!]

Let's look back for a minute, class, to a relationship I had a few years ago, where I fell into things headlong (and headstrong) and my body got involved far more quickly than my head or my heart. Or rather, my head and my heart followed the cues that my body was giving it – "Wow, this is amazing! We must be perfect for each other!" and "This is so intense, it's the ideal love!" (No, my body doesn't sound like a bad translation of porn when it talks, I just wanted to be clear so I could make my point.) I found myself tightly entwined with a lovely man who, after two years, I learned just wasn't the right match for me. Great guy, no hard feelings, but no passing on of genes there.

Same thing happened again. And again. And (sadly) again.

Over time, what did the hot single human begin to learn? The Hands Off Until I Say So theory!

Look, I'm not saying I don't want to make out. I'm human. (I'm only a faux professor…. A fauxfessor?) And while H-O-U-I-S-S does relate to making out, to me it has more to do with the simple, yet extraordinarily intimate physicalities that, when you rush them at the beginning, you don't get to savor them – holding hands, for instance, or smelling your hair. Straightening his collar. Staring unabashedly into your eyes. Eating off each others' plates. These come with time. With trust. With an understanding of who you're with (and whether or not he's eating something you want to eat.)

When my sister and I were little and the family went on a long car trip, my mom would wrap us little presents to open every 100 miles or so. They were such a delight (and a welcome relief from my sister's feet in my lap), I remember getting excited just seeing the bag of presents in the front seat. But getting little treats doled out to us as the miles rolled by? Genius. And that's how I want my physicality: little by little. I want time to savor the feeling of his hand on my face before he's off and running his fingertips down my spine. One thing at a time.

Oh, and presents don't hurt either. But that's a whole different theory all together.