Drugs Not Hugs

Touchy-feely. Lovey-dovey. Smoochie-woochie. Pumpkin-poopie. It's sad to say I'm not really one of these people. You know who I mean. The ones who see you and automatically think, "I know the name by which that human is summoned by, and therefore I must reach out both of my upper limbs and trap thou acquaintance within them!" (A.k.a. The Huggers. Those Who Hug. Those Who Embrace. Those Who Embosom. Those Who Will Die A Slow and Painful Death If They Ever Try That Shit Out On Me.)

How I do wish sometimes that I was in fact one of these friendly folks. My catchphrase would be, "Nobody is a stranger!" or "Hugs not drugs!" or "It's okay to force people towards your body, as long as you do it with a SMILE!" However, I can never be one of these people, all based on the sole fact that I tend to over analyze that four-letter word we are all so familiar with: "HUGS."

Let's break down this itsy-bitsy word, shall we? I'm talkin' letter. By. LETTER. I hope you're okay with your mind being in pieces because I'm about to blow it.

H is for Hair.

I see that stare!

And I really do not care!

Come near me if you dare!

But first...please use some Nair.

Often times, whether you are the hugger or the huggee, you will find that once your embrace has reached its full potential, the opposite person's hair will be in your face, which means it is near your nose and eyes. This is a problem because this person could easily have lice, and then you will get lice in your eyes, and if you are desperate enough to get the lice out of your eyes, you will squirt Head and Shoulders into your pupils, and then you will get pink eye, because shampoo is not meant to be drizzled onto your lenses, and if you have pink eye, everyone will assume you farted into your pillow and rubbed your face in that same pillow, and no one will talk to you because they will think you are a pink-eyed spleen-machine. On the other hand, the hair could be near your nose, and you would smell it, and some people's hair does not smell so nice. Not everyone uses Herbal Essences. Or washes their hair at all. Or even wipes. So there you are, caught in the midst of a bad-smelling fellow or gal and you cannot do anything about it but grin and bear it. If someone is going to force you to smell their nasty ass locks then they are not really your friend. They might as well grab your head and shove it into their armpit, and if they're considerate enough they might move their arm up and down so the smell wafts, just like you did with the test tubes in Chemistry class. But I do hope you never find yourself in a situation such as this one.

U if for Under.

My invisible bubble you plunder.

Which is really quite your blunder.

Now all I can wonder...

Is when the hell will we sunder?

Going in for the hug is the most awkward phase of all "The Phases of a Hug." Pulling away from the hug after the hug has been fully initiated can be very awkward, as well, depending on who it is you are hugging, but I am still going to have to give the gold medal to the going in part, and all because of one simple question: WHERE THE HELL DO I PUT MY ARMS. Over...or under? Such a plain question, yet so many complex answers. (Hey! THAT applies to a lot!) It's really no use to ask a question I'll never know the answer to, so instead, I'm just going to ask a bunch more questions. If I put my hands over, is that too manly? Is the space around the neck reserved for males only? Do I prefer putting my hands around the neck? Yes I do? But if I put my hands under, doesn't that make me look like a child? Feel like a child? Since that is how I hug my parents? If I put my hands under, does that make it seem like I'm trying to slyly make a move toward their ass? Do I secretly want to touch their ass if their ass looks like it would be a very nice ass to touch? Maybe? If I put my hands over, does that make it seem like I'm hinting to them to make a move for my ass? What happens if we both go for the same direction? And then we both try to switch to the other direction? And we do a little arm-air dance? Would we look weird to people passing by? Would we look weird to each other? Would we wish we never tried to hug in the first place because obviously it wasn't meant to happen? Absolutely? If I create my own little personal combo of one hand over and one hand under, is that awkward as fuck? Does that make it obvious that I don't know what the hell to do with my arms? And that I've over analyzed this positioning of my biceps and forearms completely? Would I feel like a total idiot? YES.

G is for mammary Glands.

Here I am worrying about my hands,

With no ifs, buts, or ands,

When what really matters is where it lands,

"It" being my bags of sands.

If you don't know what mammary glands are, then I'm sorry. Your mother should have breast-fed you. Breasts, people. I am talking about breasts. (This is the only term I can use. The word "boobs" makes me very uncomfortable for some unknown reason, and "tits" are for cows, not people. whereas "titties" are for little cows, not little people.) This can apply to guys, too. You go in for a hug in the winter time. Hugging Partner is wearing a thin t-shirt. You can feel his nipples mid-hug. That's second base right there. Funny how things work out. You go in for an innocent greeting, and BAM! Second base. Right there. Right then. No turning back. Just turning you ON. But enough about man nips. Since I was not born with a penis, I do not know if guys can feel a female's bosom when they hug, but I assume it's a yes, but what is worse than this is when two girls hug. It's like mashed potatoes, but not potatoes. Mashed boobies is not a comfortable feeling, which is a fact of life that I felt the need to share. It not only feels weird, but imagine what that really looks like. And by "really" looks like, I mean what it looks like if everyone had x-ray vision. I mean, come on. How awkward is that image? It'd look like a figure 8 turned horizontally, or like a really fat butterfly. I guess some people may enjoy this image, since men tend to get turned on when a girl would rather be with a girl than with him, a concept I will never be able to comprehend. And what if the girl is much taller than you? Does your face get mashed into her bosom? Good god. I am never hugging tall people. I've just decided this. Please don't take it personally, you Tallies out there. You should be flattered that I am polite enough to not dive head-first into your cleavage.

S if for sweat.

You're very very wet!

And that makes me upset!

If you don't leave soon, you'll have much regret!

Yes. That WAS a threat.

Exercise gives you three things: endorphins and energy. What do people filled with happiness and a sudden burst of energy do? They hug people, THAT'S what they do. And yes, I do realize that I said exercise gives you three things and I only named two. That is because I am saving the third one...for...right...now! SWEAT. The joggers, the weight-lifters, the ellipticallers...these are the people you gotta keep an eye out for, cause they'll hug you. They'll hug you no matter how drenched they are in giant doblets of perspiration and body odor. ("Doblets"...I might or might not have just made that word up.) You'll be strolling. You'll be strolling and smiling and strolling some more. You'll be doing a lot of strolling at this time, in fact. And then, out of nowhere, Big Hank jogs up. You've met him once. You know how friendly Big Hank is. So you say hi. Big. Mistake.

"I REMEMBER YOU FROM THAT ONE TIME WE MET FOR FOUR AND A HALF SECONDS! I'M GOING TO PUT MY ARMS AROUND YOU NOW!"

Big Hank hugs you, without realizing that he just unintentionally changed his name from Big Hank to Stinky Hank. And you hate Hank. And his sweat. And the fact that Hank's sweat is not on one body, but now two bodies, and one of those bodies is your body, and Hank's sweat will remain on your body, seeping into your own pores with your own sweat that you are courteous enough to keep inside your own damn body, until you take a shower. You just took a shower. But now, thank to Big Stinky Hank, you have to take two, and waste some more time in your life that you'll never get back ever again. Fuck you Hank. Fuck you and your beads of sweat.

Look how helpful I just was! I enlightened you on the disadvantages of being hugged, and I did it in a friendly, cheery manner! And did I have to hug you to show you I am friendly and cheery? Did I have to invade your personal space? Put my hairs in your nose? Reach for your ass? Press my bosom upon your bosom? Force my sweat into your pores? NO, I did NOT. If you need to hug someone, I suggest you go hug your mee-ma. Or a tree. Or your invisible friend. Or go introduce yourself to a stranger so when you see them a second time you'll feel comfortable wrapping your arms around their body; just stay the hell away from mine.