I’m sick of it. The fake hug. Staring me in the face in odd, random situations by odd, random people usually accompanied by that unmistakably hideous nervous laughter and the faint smell of kielbasa, tobacco, or Aqua Velva, or the winning combination of Aqua Velva-ed kielbasa. I shan’t be a part of it anymore.
Hey person I just met at a party last week: Don’t fake hug me when we run into each other on the street only after my vain attempts to cross the street before you’ve noticed me, or use a strand of my hair as a moustache so as to throw you off of my true identity. I know you’re trying to look popular with your group of friends by making it appear as though we’re great buddies and all, but don’t do it. I don’t even know your last name, and I’m pretty sure I only spoke three words to you in my entire life. (“Nice Slayer shirt.”)
Hey person I used to sit across from in grade eleven biology: Don’t fake hug me when you spot me at the King’s Head. We didn’t hug each other nine years ago in high school when we had nothing to say to each other, so don’t do it now. A simple handshake, bow, or curtsy should suffice. (Because bowing and curtsying are way overdue for a return to civilized society ... as are capes. Speaking of which, I will ALWAYS hug a caped person, no matter what the circumstance.)
Hey person I was just introduced to by my friend while enjoying conversation and coffee in a cafe: Don’t fake hug me in lieu of a handshake. I know my friend just hugged you, but it was fake. She remained seated while you uncomfortably linked arms with her and patted her back a little. That’s sickening. I don’t want to see it, and I certainly don’t want to partake in it.
I’m bringing back the curtsy. Full force. Does anyone have a bustle they could lend me?
