Hugs

I read a survey recently which asked the following:

Hugs or kisses? Which do you prefer?

Many respondents answered "both" assuming the question had its basis in romance. Some preferred hugs though and I chose that as well. I like hugs. I like to give them and I like to get them. I hug most people, but not everybody. Some people are not comfortable with hugs.

I hug all my female friends. I embrace them to say hello, and again to say good-bye. My family get hugs. My sisters. My parents, both Mum and Dad. My Dad's hugs are so ... I don't know, Ms J. So loving, I guess. When Dad hugs me, he holds me close and I can tell he's thrilled to see me. He rubs my back and I feel his whiskery cheek against mine. It feels warm and sincere. I can tell he loves me. Mum's the same, of course, but without the whiskers. I've begun recently to hug my big brother, too. It was uncomfortable at first, although I'm not sure why. I forced myself to do it. Pat always receives my embrace and returns it. It gets a bit easier each time. I hug my kids. I will always hug my kids.

Some male friends are quite huggable. Others are not. Kirk is huggable. Kevin S too. And John S. I got a wonderful hug from Dave once. I wish men weren't so afraid of hugging another man. Honestly, Ms Journal. What's the big deal about a simple embrace between two men? European men often hug each other in greeting. I don't know about British men. I wonder if they're as stiff and as uptight as many North American men? And what about Australian men? Is it homophobia? C'mon you guys. I won't try to kiss you or grab your arse. I promise. What I am learning, is that a hand shake is always acceptable. Maybe hugs are for really special occasions. Or something.

I had a friend years ago who often grabbed my buttocks when we hugged. He'd grab me and thrust his pelvis against mine. His name was Kevin M. I met him at a men's support group I used to attend after Donna threw me out. Kevin was about 60, I guess. And gay. We struck up a friendship and often did things together. Movies. Skating. He was nice, but he refused to accept my hetero-sexuality, often making inappropriate advances toward me. I told him I felt uncomfortable and asked him to respect me and our friendship. He didn't listen. The final straw occurred one winter evening after dinner at his place. He did his best to get me drunk on martinis (he called them "pants removers") and begged me to let him perform oral sex on me. I grabbed my coat and boots, walked out the door and never looked back. I didn't return his calls and I've never seen him again. It's inconsiderate people like Kevin who cause men to feel awkward about same sex hugs.

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Shit. Now I'm sitting here wondering if I should post that story or not. I haven't shared it with many people. A few trusted friends. Very few. Oh I'm not worried about outing Kevin. He's proud to be gay and not afraid of people finding out. I'm thinking now about Jim over at the book store. Remember that story, Ms J? Jim was gay and he wanted me too.

So that's two then. Two gay fellows coming on to me. I guess that's not terribly remarkable. I mean twice in my Life is not a lot. Is it. It's not a lot, really. Is it? No. Not much at all. Only twice. In my whole Life.

I've been approached by woman too, Ms J. Lots of women. Older women. Desperate women. Fat women. Ugly women. Drunken women. Women though, nonetheless.

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This is not the post I wanted to write. Gosh, how did I get so far from my original plan? I wanted to write about hugs, dammit. I just wanted to tell you about hugs.

Hugs ...

But what I wanted to post doesn't even fit with all this crap. Watch this space, Ms J. I'll post the piece about hugs tomorrow.


I feel kind of foolish, actually.

G'night.

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