I . . . like hugs.

For most of my life I have thought otherwise, and in recent years I have shared this info with others as a means of defense.  “Oh no. I’m not a fan of hugs. Thanks.”

Translation – I see that you’re approaching for a hug, and I’m really uncomfortable with that.  Don’t touch me.  STEP.  OFF.

Side-hugs are even worse.  Stand beside someone, put your hand on their shoulder/ around their waist/ hovering on their ribcage and release a noncommittal amount of pressure.  I don’t remember the side-hug being as popular when I was a child.  In fact, I cannot remember receiving one side-hug when I was below 5 feet tall.  Side-hugs are intentionally awkward gestures.  Can someone please tell me who invented them?  I’d really like to know.

The business world has nearly freed me from these social anomalies with the introduction of the handshake.  Noncommittal is appropriate here.  We are strangers and it is business.  The firmness of the initial shake says it all.

Alas, I have become sidetracked, and must return to the topic at hand. (Puns fully intended.)

In the past 6 months, I have encountered a handful of aggressive huggers.  *Please note: this is one situation where aggression is welcome.  Surely you’ve encountered one of these rare gems.  Their squeezes explode with passion as if this is the last opportunity for a hug – ever.  In the midst of one of these bone crushers, steering the direction of the embrace in not an option.  All you can do is hold on and accept the affection.  The moment matters.  There’s a lot of trust involved and there’s certainly a raise in awareness of being human.  [Side-hugs? A negligible amount of trust there.]  I’ve had a taste of what real hugs feel like, and (I can’t believe I’m saying this) they’re wonderful!

I finally understand.  And so I broadcast to the world in the words of so many bygone crooners, “Embrace me, my sweet embraceable you.”