flying through clouds of uncertainty on wings of existential dread
I wasn’t sure what to post for my 100th, but this seems good since it’s the basic personality traits of both my main characters. (Sorry, Food Truck Hedgehog.) I am not a hugger. That’s not to say that I never hug – I have friends I traditionally greet with a hug, I always hug my brother when I see him, and I occasionally hug my mother, but it’s not my first impulse. The friends I hug are folk who hug everyone – I’m fine with reciprocating, but I’m not an initiator because I’m just not. Physical affection is not really something I was raised with a ton of, and it just doesn’t come that naturally to me. Similarly, when people are upset, I’m prone to the awkward shoulder pat because, although I most definitely hurt for you, I’m not necessarily comfortable in your personal space.
This is a thing that used to piss off one of the girls I went to grad school with — when I’m upset, I want to go be by myself somewhere quiet and private till I’m calm. I don’t want to talk about it, because I’ll only get more upset that way. And I’m not cold, and I’m not a bitch, I just function better with a little space. And screw you if your need to be the awesome comforting helper is more important than what will actually make me feel better.
So, again, when a friend is upset or has something awful happen, my first impulse is to leave them alone and give them space, and I realize that’s not what everyone wants. If you’ve ever thought I was avoiding you at a rough time, please assume that my intent was to give you space. And if you hug me and I seem all stiff and to be wanting to escape, let the hell go, you clingy person. Manic Pixie Otter’s a hugger. I’m not. I show my love with drawings and presents and baking and wooooooords.
Huh. This turned depressing. Here, have a cat to make up for it.
‘The only thing I hug is this pillow.’