I Love Hugs
This will come as no surprise to those reading this who know me, but I REALLY love hugs. Not for me a perfunctory, lukewarm pat on the shoulder, oh no, I like a good old bear hug. And if I’m going to be a bear then I might as well be a grizzly. Grrr, let’s hug it out!
I was introduced to some new friends at a party last week and, as we said our goodbyes, I instinctively reached out to one for a hug. I suppose there are times when it just feels… okay. We caught up again a few days later and the topic of my tactility came up, hence the subject of this week’s Writing Challenge.
Considered by many the most powerful of our senses; it’s through touch that we connect — with ourselves, with others, and with the world around us. Touch can be physically and emotionally healing. Think how a child reaches out for a hug when in need of comfort or reassurance, or for a consolatory squeeze after a shock or knock. I’m no different now. I live too far away from my family for them to fulfil my cuddle quota, so I sometimes find myself sadly lacking on the squeeze scale these days. Ah, poor child!
I’ve always been known as the ‘emotional one’ in the family, constantly hanging out for a hello hug. In childhood photographs, I almost always have a protective big-sisterly arm draped over the shoulder of my adored sibling Julie. The same goes for recent photographs. We had a lovely week together recently and I spent a good chunk of that time reaching out for a cuddle. Sorry Jules! My natural default is to link my arm through those of my family or close friends as we stroll along. Thankfully, my youngest sister Rachel loves a hug as much as I do, so it’s nice to feel that I’m not the only one in the family persisting for a pat…
As a child, leaving a family gathering could be a lengthy affair as I worked the room, hugging everyone as though engaged in some sort of ceremonial send-off. In the Nineties, I could easily see out the entire 12-inch version of ‘I am the Resurrection’ as I bade overly-elaborate farewells following post-work Friday night pub visits. That’s 8 minutes and 13 seconds in case you were wondering.
It seems my keenness for a clinch is obvious. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t parade around, arms outstretched and ready to pounce on unsuspecting strangers… unless I’m feeling particularly needy, that is. Earlier this year I spent time in an Indian ashram with a group of beautiful belles from all four corners of the globe. One day, completely out of the blue, an exquisitely elegant Frenchwoman — Aurelia — gave me the warmest, most genuine hug I’d had in a long while. I readily reciprocated, burying my head in her shoulder as she gently told me how she instinctively knew I needed a hug that day. She was spot on… and her words were just enough to burst the banks of my fragile tear defence system. This was one long hug. Aurelia told me that a ‘proper’ hug needs to last at least a minute to be meaningful. I suspect she may have regretted this as her delicate shoulder became completely soaked from my snotty sobs within 20 seconds. Classy. But it worked! Aurelia’s hug was exactly what I needed at that moment. I was all set to take on the world! Or, more accurately, a 2-hour lesson in Yoga Philosophy. A similar undertaking in my books.
The same thing happened a few days later when designated ‘mother’ of the group Clare; an unbelievably youthful-looking (yet strong as an ox) Kiwi, discreetly took me aside for a much-needed hug. Much bigger sobs this time… and snots too. Sorry Clare! And thanks! :-)
Another friend at the ashram, the also delightful Sari from Finland was another ‘hugger’. I looked forward to what became a daily occurrence — my morning Sari Snuggle — as we waited the terrace for our morning yoga classes, looking out across the mountains. Himalayan hugs that went on for ages — what a lovely way to start the day!
A couple of years back I was watching local bands from the excellent BIMM (Brighton Institute of Modern Music) in Brighton city centre. One band, Tiny Dragons, really caught my eye…and ear. The lead singer promised a free hug to anyone buying their CD. My sister Sophie gave a withering glance, knowing exactly what was to come as I joined the merch queue. I watched as one punter after another duly stumped up their £5, took their CD, and… walked away. Whaat?! Knowing my rights (under the Trade Descriptions Act), I duly requested my free hug. Success! A proper bear hug! All I had to do was ask. Everyone was happy: my daily hug quota was back on track, Tiny Dragons were £5 better off, and Soph was off the hug hook for at least another hour.
I love the scene from the 1990s comedy Dumb and Dumber, where Jim Carrey’s nice-but-dim character chauffeur Lloyd Christmas declares his dislike of ‘goodbyes’. This culminates with him launching in for a lingering hug with his bemused passenger following an airport drop-off. Yep, that would be me.
I realise that hugs are not everyone’s ‘thing’, and there are some people — close friends, even — with whom I wouldn’t even consider going in for a grapple. But maybe, as was the case with Aurelia, your offer of a hug might be just the thing to lift the spirits of someone around you right now.
