Day Seven: hugs


As I have previously stated, I think hugs are awesome. I genuinely don’t understand people that aren’t tactile (and by that I mean tactile, not gropey – there’s a big difference). What I hate the most is that kind of half-hug that some people give where they sort of drape their arms over your shoulders with zero enthusiasm, like they’re afraid they might catch something. If you’re gonna hug me, hug me properly dammit or don’t bother at all. I come from a reasonably hug-loving family. I’m only slightly ashamed to admit that I still, when the occasion necessitates it, crawl onto my mother’s lap for a cuddle. Yes, I’m 31 years old, but there is something pure and beautiful about a hug from your mum, even if you are now taller than her and it probably squashes some of her internal organs in the process. She’s a sweetheart and never complains. A good hug can work in a number of different situations. Someone is sad? Hug them. They tell you good news? Hug them. You haven’t seen them in a while? Hugs. You want to piss off one of those aforementioned non-tactile people? Hug the shit out of them. There are of course many times when a hug would NOT be appropriate. If someone is looking to punch you in the face, for example. The policeman arresting you, not appropriate. Also, it’s probably not a great idea to hug your potential new employer at the end of a formal interview. Just so we’re clear. I honestly believe though that if people hugged each other more there would be no more wars, no more famine, politicians would be trustworthy and small cartoon birds would fly around our heads. Alright, maybe not. But it certainly wouldn’t hurt to try.

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