As much as I love this song, I must turn the notion on its head. I think the yearning for the touch of another human is primal. There are times when a hug from a family member or girlfriend is just the right medicine, but there are times when only a man's voice on the other end of the phone or, better, the touch of a man is what I need.

Sometimes it's purely platonic, as it always was with Chris Lighty (RIP), whose broad football shoulders were the warm pillar on which I leaned and wept. Or every member of Wu Tang, who always hug me like they want to protect me from every element, natural and unnatural. 

But the hands of a lover are unlike any other. I've always said I like a man who's nice with his hands.
Hands that massage me head to toe at the end of a long hard day.
Hands that cup my face and kiss me tenderly on the forehead.
Hands that grab me by the shoulders and kiss me hard in the soft summer rain. 
Hands that wipe away my tears with care. 
Hands that pull me in so tight that I could melt into his chest.
Hands that clasp the small of my back and let me know he'll always catch me.
Hands that hold mine when we're walking down the street that say "she's mine and I'm hers."
Hands that know every curve of my shaved head and contour of my unique physique.
Hands that create the bridge between us as we fall asleep. 
Hands that take me to places that only we can go.