One of my quirks is space. I don’t like folks standing too close. I don’t want to see their tonsils or teeth fillings or the shrimp stuck there from yesterday. I don’t know the exact measurement that I need to feel comfortable but I know when it’s not met.
I can be a huggy, touchy-feely person just not too much. My family is not particularly touchy-feely at all. We never kiss to greet and only hug when the situation is grave – like at funerals, weddings (yes, those are grave), terminal illnesses and when someone had something really bad happen. It’s a demonstration of solidarity that we don’t waste on just saying “hi.”
We don’t do air kisses either. I always thought that might be cool (it’s so French!) as long as there was absolutely no touching. Let me make this perfectly clear. Absolutely. No. Touching!
I have attended weddings where the bride looked like she was greeted by Freddie Krueger. Either that or her lipstick was put on by her old blind aunt Maude. That’s just nasty. Women who wear red lipstick should not be kissing anyone.
For a time I was married to Brand X whose family was very kissy-kissy. They didn’t like each other. They preferred demonstrations of affection instead of the real thing. Egad! They kissed on the lips. Before eating. After eating. After drinking a case of beer (do you know what that smells like???). Gross. It reinforced my aversion to all that.
I do like hugs and feelings of affection (preferably expressed with Starbucks gift cards).
Now that I have said that (or put it in writing) I am known to kiss my cats on the snoot. We all know where what was recently, don’t we? I never said I made sense, did I?
To kick off your week, here are the Stones! Shake that booty (and keep your snooty clean!)