I hug with my head. This is a thing that happens. And I feel like I can’t keep it to myself any longer. Mostly because I’m an inexperienced writer, and this is content, and young writers can’t be too picky with the little content that they come across. So I’m writing about how I hug with my head. I’m sorry.
I know that I hug with my head for one reason. When I hug men, especially men who are taller than me, I consistently knock my chin on their shoulders. That is, I lean into the hug and bring my head in too close and either my chin hits their shoulders or their shoulders hit my chin. I would never have noticed how I hug with my head if I didn’t keep risking concussions by banging my chin off men’s shoulders.
The slightest hint of intimacy between men is uncomfortable, even with your own father. Touching your chin to another man’s shoulder counts as intimacy. Especially if you tilt in just a little bit and bring your chin down on more of his neck than his shoulder. All of a sudden, you’re necking with another man. This is uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable. Not to mention the concussion.
At this point you and I might both be saying that hugging with your head is a bad thing. It probably is. But then again…
When I hug a lovely young lady who is typically a few inches shorter than me, I never ever bump my chin on her shoulder. It is in these circumstances where in addition to my arms wrapping around her, I presume I am also ever-so-slightly wrapping my chin around the side of her neck, holding her that much closer. Though intimacy between all men is uncomfortable, intimacy between a lovely young lady and myself isn’t so bad. For me, at least. I think hugging with my head in these instances would probably be a good thing. Truth be told, hugging with my head is probably a good thing in all instances where a little closeness is also a good thing, romantic or not.
Probably. That’s all I can say. Because I’m not sure that this is the way I hug. Because I don’t bump my chin on women (or short men) so there is no cue that I’ve been hugging with my head. I just kind of assume that it’s happened. I assume hugging tall men just produces a different result, one that I notice.
You’ll say, why don’t you just pay attention the next time you hug a woman and then you’ll know? I’ll say, that’s not what I’m paying attention to, of course. If you’re the type of person who hugs with his head, you are not also the type of person who is going to analyze the hug mid-hug. Hugging with your head requires a pretty serious commitment to the hug. You can’t be concerned about anything else.
The biggest question I have is if others have noticed this about me. Are my male friends walking around with bruised shoulders? Are my female friends walking around shivering off some too-intimate awkwardness? Are people talking about my chin and double-chin and tickly beard and how they hate feeling all that Paul on their very sensitive necks? If you people are all complaining about me like this, all I can say is that it would have been nice to have been told…
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Necks are sensitive, aren’t they? And very personal. This complicates matters. Other people’s necks make my neck-hugs that much more awkward. Or intimate. Bad or good, depending on your perspective.
Necks are sensitive. Tender. Vulnerable. Ticklish. That’s where your carotid arteries are. One slip of a straight razor and that’s all she wrote. You’ve got to protect your neck from the outside world. If you’re single, your neck is your own, and not for anyone else. If you’re single, ask yourself when the last time was someone touched your neck. When was it? Truth is, it doesn’t happen. Necks are super personal. No one ever touches your neck.
Unless you hug me. That’s when I, unconscious of my own actions and movements, unaware of all the awkwardness I’m about to bring into your life, lean in a little too much and wrap my chin around you. Then all of a sudden both of our necks have been touched by another human being. Eww. Yuck. Icky.
If you’ve read this far, most likely you’re thinking about how creepy I am, hugging lovely young ladies with my head. That’s fair. I’m not going to blame you for judging me like that. I probably deserve it.
But what I’d beg you to remember is that I’m not a discriminating hugger. Everyone who receives a hug from me gets all of that. Lovely young women and my nephew and old church ladies and my mom and my friend’s boyfriend who I’ve met just once and my 6’5” uncle and everyone else ever. I know I’m a creep, but I’m not a creep because I’m trying to make a move on anyone. I’m a creep because that’s just the way I am. That’s just how I hug.
I hug with my head. I’m pretty sure that’s true. And the primary thing my neck-hugging means to me is that I will be reminded of my awkwardness every so often when I lean in a little too aggressively and get KO’d by one more man’s overdeveloped traps. If it’s creepy for you, rest easy knowing it’s painful for me.