Finally, I have a medical reason for being so crazy about all this affection. I’m a hugger. In spite of being independent and spacial, I’m a somewhat touchy person, which is good most of the time. Except when it isn’t. But that’s a different post.
I once performed a hugging conversion. Met someone new, who wasn’t a hugger at all. She turned stiff and started to run every time I headed her direction. Always up for a challenge, I set out to bring her to hugging salvation. And, over the course of our brewing friendship and my relentless two-armed embraces, she became a full-fledged believer in the art of hugging. Now she won’t leave a breathing soul alone. I’m so proud.
There’s something powerful about physical touch, reaching out to someone in a face-to-face encounter with unconditional acceptance, respect, and trust. Two arms thrown around another in a message that says, “I like you. You’re okay.” And though I know there’s a downside and a few cautions to be observed, I’m really not in the mood to talk about those today. Not in the mood at all.
Because I believe we’re far better experts at withholding love, rather than showing too much of it.
BTW, if we run into each other today, plan on having the stuffing hugged out right out of ya. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.