Hugging someone you barely know or care about seems to have become commonplace in today’s culture. As a person coming of age in the fifties, I can tell you we didn’t used to do much hugging except with a little kid, a close relative, or a friend who had suffered some kind of painful loss, like the death of a loved one. Of course, we hugged our boyfriends, but that was usually leading up to something more intimate.
Maybe it started in the late sixties, when hippies were advocating we make love, not war. I’m not sure. The first time I witnessed group hugging was when my teenage son came home from a church camp, and when I went to pick him up, all the boys and girls were going around the parking lot and hugging each other. We didn’t do that when we came home from girl scout camp. So, I knew the times, they were a changing.Now, there’s even a National Hugger Day in January.
I pretty much tried to adapt and fit into the hugging trend. I didn’t initiate hugs, but then again, I didn’t resist them. But I finally drew the line when I took a water aerobics class and encountered a serial hugger. This lady apparently hoped to a recruit new members to her particular denomination by zigzaging through the water, approaching unsuspecting women, and embracing them while whispering biblical quotations in their ear. I think some needy women enjoyed that, but I really wasn’t too keen on hugging a sweaty, clammy stranger. I kept trying to dodge her and hide behind other women, but when she continued to stalk me with a big smile and outstretched arms, I finally backed away, finding some pretext of doing something else. She finally got the message and left me alone. But when we ended up back in the locker room after class, she usually gave me a dirty look.
So, if hugging is your thing, and all your friends do it, that’s fine with me, but just remember that some people like a little more space.
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