To those hugging muscles that need flexing at all times.

It is Friday, and it is nighttime. I am sitting in the car with my best friend, Minh. We are talking about life, relationships, how, in a few months, he will be attending the wedding of a friend, how there is a chance that he will see his ex there. Her name is Akari—married, kids and all.

I ask him how he will react, seeing her there, and he answers with indifference. Acknowledge her presence, but that is as far as he would go.

Fair enough, I say.

I think about how I would react, how my face would probably light up in joy, how I would probably approach them with enthusiasm, how I would wrap my arms around them. They would probably stand there, still as a statue, stunned, not sure how to react to this psychopath in their way, but it doesn’t faze me.

Later. I am walking. The moon and stars are out. I say hello to them, and they wink back at me.

I am contemplating why I would hug my ex, why I wouldn’t hesitate for even a second. I think it’s more than just hugging their physical body, although I am glad it is there too. I am hugging the universe, embracing the poetry of it all, embracing the fact that after all these years, the universe has brought us together once again.

It is a celebration

of everything that led to this moment.

Of the past, the present, the briefness of it all.

I like to think that in this moment, I have found peace with my past, that I don’t hold onto grudges or pain but instead celebrate the fact that these people—these loves, these almosts, these could-have-beens—were part of my journey all along, and I am honoring that.

On the same note, I am reminded of the moment I was hugging Sean. When he said that it feels so good hugging me. Because I am in my own skin.

That line stuck with me, like chewing gum on the sole of my shoe.

It brings me joy to think that he wasn’t just hugging my skinny frame, my bones, my body that some might call too small—but instead, he was hugging something else entirely. My energy. My confidence. My self-assurance. It wasn’t just physical contact, wasn’t just skin against skin, it was an exchange of warmth, of safety, of presence.

And because I was comfortable in my own skin, that energy naturally radiated into the hug itself.

Or at least, I like to think so.

So when Sean says he loves hugging me, he is, in a way, talking about what it feels like to hold someone at peace with themselves.

I do love my hugs. I can’t get enough of them.

It’s a quality I want in my future partner—no, need. As far as I’m concerned, it is a dealbreaker in all cases.

I can think of nothing better in the world than to fall asleep, safe and sound, in the arms of my lover.