Right. That’s it. Does anyone have a pair of bolt cutters? Or maybe a water cannon? Because frankly, I think that’s the only way we can stop Harry and Meghan from holding hands.
Like so many other things about them, it is fingernails-down-the-blackboard grating. Annoying. And so goddamn performative.
The whole “young and so very much in love, not like frosty and uptight William and Kate” routine has worn thinner than a cigarette paper. Harry is 39; Meghan is 42. They have two offspring, aged four and two. Nobody has free hands at that age and stage; they are either full of squirming children or their ridiculously bulky paraphernalia. Any free hand is for patting down your partner’s body to find the car keys. Fact.
“Every time I see those two holding hands, it triggers me,” confesses a colleague who also has a brace of little ones. “It’s inauthentic, it’s unbelievable, it makes me want to scream because it bears no resemblance to the realities of parenthood.”
Or indeed the realities of work. Whether pitching up to launch the Invictus Games, “parting ways” with Spotify or hitting the ski slopes of Vancouver, these two want to let it be known, via the medium of interlocking fingers, that they are inseparable. Press conferences, UN speeches: no opportunity is too formal not to hang on to one another like a couple of prom-night teens.
We know Meghan is (whisper it) “a hugger” as well as being “one of the most influential women in the world” according to the couple’s new website, which means it must be true.
Doesn’t she grasp that clinging on to her husband’s arms all the time isn’t feminist? Quite the opposite: it projects a bizarre image of childishness and codependence.
The irony is that Harry, formerly known as Prince, is a man who knows exactly what to do with empty hands. He was born into it. It was bred into him. It’s pretty much the USP of Windsor man 1.0; slip one hand into the jacket pocket, occasionally open a button, close the button, hands behind the back, pause and repeat.
“Every time I see those two holding hands, it triggers me.”
While we’re on the subject, he has added a troubling new move to his repertoire: he has a tendency to place his hand over his solar plexus. It’s an unconscious habit, and presumably stems from a desire to shield himself from the media’s enemy fire. Crikey.
As for Meghan, she can stretch out her arms to heal the world or maybe write meaningful slogans on bananas as she did for sex workers at a Bristol charity.
To be honest, the only time I didn’t feel irritated by their relentless PDA was when other people criticized them for holding hands while leaving the funeral procession for the late Queen at Westminster Hall. I’d say, for once, it was an appropriate response to a highly emotional occasion.
It’s not the gesture per se that irks, rather the context. Whenever I walk down the street holding hands with my husband, I like to think of it as a signal to the neighbors that there will be no shouting or door slamming because we are quite evidently loved-up. Today, at any rate.
Would we hold hands more often if we were a global brand seeking to shape the future through business and philanthropy, like Meghan and Harry? Dear Lord, I hope not.
“They are committed to their mission: Show Up, Do Good,” says their website. “They hold the value that charitable work should not simply be ‘a handout, but rather a hand held’.”
A fine sentiment but it’s tricky to reach out to others when they won’t – or can’t – stop clutching one another.
Judith Woods is a U.K-based features writer and weekly columnist at The Telegraph
