Tuesday, September 29, 2020

Among the Silver Linings to The Contagion

Can there possibly be any?


Oh, yeah.  You see all kinds of articles extolling the advantages of increased home-working, enhanced rainy-day savings practices, decreased materialism, a new appreciation for the virtues of family, and, generally, Concentration on Things that Matter. 
 

All worthy.  But not of the greatest value to me.
 

On my list, at the top you will find:  The End of the Man-Hug.
 

There are cultures where man-hugs are common and accepted as a matter of long historical custom:  Russia; the Middle East; Greece.  I don't live in any of those places.
 

My dislike of the man-hug is not homophobic.  It is not a result of perplexity over my sexuality.
 

I object to the man-hug for many reasons.  Among them:
 

    --  Hugging men, rather than shaking hands, is unsatisfying.  Shaking hands communicates so very much more, at least between men, than the man hug.  Forget about grip, duration, firmness, dampness:  A handshake lets you look a man in the eye, judge the sincerity of the composition of his expression, and what that expression conveys.
 

    --  I'm not good at it.  You don't know how close to hug, how long, and you end up patting the guy on the back like you're hoping for a burp.
 

    --  It is emblematic of the overfeminization of American culture.  Oh, you don't think it's overfeminized?   Think what you want.  I do.  The feminization process was temporarily halted after 9/11 when maleness was celebrated for many reasons.  But the news cycles at light speed, and the social levelers are wearing everyone down.  We can argue about the denaturing of American culture another time, but I can't think of any other reason that this pernicious practice crept into the choreography of greeting within the last twenty years except that we're now all supposed to be as in touch with our feelings as women supposedly are, and hugs are viewed as somehow more intimate, softer and more inviting, than the handshake.  They're right, it is -- and it's a bad look for men, because, in part:
 

    --  It is evolutionarily artificial, forced.  Although men no longer compete for land, food, and babes the way they once did, we are still somewhat cautious, private creatures, always on the lookout for the one-up, the angle.  Men are naturally disposed to hold one another at arm's-length, and the handshake suits that inclination perfectly.
 

    --  Some guys are fat.  I'm not slender myself.  It's an unpleasant dance.
 

    --  I don't have hug-inspiring feelings about any man I know.
 

    --  Men encountering one another in huggie-type situations are frequently carrying something:  A gift for a hostess, a document carrier of some kind.  A six-pack.  A twelve-pack.   A gun.  Hugs are a hands-free custom.


     --  It's icky for reasons that will not occur to me until after I post this. 


    --  I have no need to check any of my friends for hidden recording devices.
 

And, of course:
 

     --  Until The Contagion is entirely behind us, a hug can kill.

 

Why did Leonardo DiCaprio exchange this awkward hug with John Kerry today?

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