Just A Bug Wishing for a Rug
I don’t know when, and I don’t know where, so don’t ask me… but somewhere along the lines I entered the “adult world”. The nice thing about being in a HighSchool Christian group is that you are everybody’s best friend, everybody pretends to like everybody else, and you can hug just about anybody and call it a “hello”. In the adult world, it isn’t that way. Sometimes you go to hug somebody and get that look that says “what are you doing, and are you contagious?”
As a habitual hugger, this creates some notable amount of difficulty. Who do you hug, when can you hug them, and when are THEY contagious? To that effect, it is easy for me to feel somewhat akward in otherwise platonic situations. My natural leaning is “Friend= huggable target”, and then my head kicks in and says “girl=possible social discomfort” or “guy= possible homophobia”. It is due to this that I am mostly a passive hugger in social circumstances. To explain and clarify, there are a couple basic groups of huggers:
1. Aggressive huggers: “HEY! How ‘ya doin?!?!” **squeezes stuffing out of the victim**
2. Homie huggers: “What’s up, dude?” **handshake/hug combo**
3. Casual huggers: “Yo…” **goes for the one-armed ‘sidehug’**
4. Passive huggers: **silently waits and readily accepts hugs from other people**
To be sure, I currently fall into this fourth catagory. Generally speaking, people in this fourth catagory are huggers trying to cover-up. Maybe it’s just me growing up, but at one point or another I have been in all four catagories. Strangely, I’ve always enjoyed being an aggressive hugger… there is something fun about almost tackling someone just to say hi. So yeah, I feel pretty out of place in rather sterile adult world.
The strangest thing is that we worship our emotions (ie, romance novels, high-drama films, Soap Operas), and yet we are so guarded about showing them in public. We remain at arm’s legnth, attempting to preserve some strange idea of “Emotional stregnth”, while inside remaining our same neurotic, quirky selves. Our outward façade screams that we believe that the strongest people are those who don’t feel, while the reality is that the strongest are those who allow themselves to feel. True, don’t air the depths of your heart to the world at large, but geeze… if you never open the windows of the house the air gets musky and stale.
PS, perhaps all of this is just God’s way of reminding me that I am a stranger and a pilgrim on this earth… but still.