Bugged By the Hugs: Why hugs are overrated and aren’t the only way to show affection

My natural instinct when anyone comes within a couple inches of my body is to flinch, scrunch  up my face and throw my hands out to stop them. You’d think I’m being attacked by a feral dog or that someone’s trying to mug me, but they’re not — they’re just going in for a hug.

Everytime my mom says, “Bye sweetie, have a great day at school!” and hugs me so tight my backpack straps leave an imprint on my skin, I enter panic mode. I stand with my arms at my side — the spitting image of a Buckingham Palace guard. Not because I don’t love my mom, but because I hate  hugs. 

There’s no reasonable explanation for my disdain for hugs — no cruel childhood or lack of affection. Hugging is basically squeezing someone’s body to your’s and I don’t think it’s so crazy that I’m trying my best to avoid that. I feel awkward giving and receiving hugs — how long are they supposed to last? Where do I put my hands? Should I pull away first? The internal agony is not worth it.

I shouldn’t have to ironically say “wow you know how I love hugs” everytime my mom hugs me goodnight. I shouldn’t have to endure sarcastic air hugs because my friends know I’m not a hugger. I shouldn’t be forced to hug relatives at Thanksgiving because I’m “thankful” for them (you know what I’m not thankful for? Hugs). 

Now, I’m used to congratulatory hugs from my friends for getting into a school or playing well in a soccer game — but it’s the hugs that leave no time to mentally prep that I loathe. My aversion to hugs definitely stems from the unexpected hugs. Throw in the time a stranger went in for one without warning when I was walking in Times Square and you could say I’m a little scarred.

According to Suzanne Degges-White, a Counseling and Counselor Education professor at Northern Illinois University, people’s tendencies for physical touch are a product of their early childhood experiences.

That’s not necessarily true — bear hugs were an everyday occurence from my dad growing up and I can barely give my eight-year-old sister a hug without feeling uncomfortable (I sound like a monster). Plus, my mom, as you’ve probably figured out by now, is an avid embracer. Even though they’re my family, I still get the hands-clenched-at-my-side feeling when there’s hugs involved.

I understand that for some people any sort of physical touch can bring up traumatic past experiences, but can’t a girl hate hugs without people thinking that her hug aversion is the product of hellish circumstances?

I just don’t want my personal space invaded, and having my own air supply without someone latching onto my body and breathing down my neck is a necessity. Ugh. Shudder. 

My friends’ excuses for springing hugs on me is because they assume I’m the type who would love hugs, all because I rarely get mad and have the demeanor of a second-grade girl scout. But that doesn’t mean you can give me hugs willy-nilly. 

Of course I still value affection. It’s important to tell loved ones you care for them, but maybe skip the hug for me. Verbal cues and pats on backs work just fine for me, and I’d much rather hear someone say something nice than have them lean in for a hug.

Yet despite my best efforts to shy away from anyone with open arms, I’m learning to live with my obvious dislike for hugs. While I think it’s important to maintain my anti-hug values, it’s getting a little awkward to tell every new person to keep their distance.

The Huffington Post claims that hugs lay the biological foundation for connecting to other people, and oxytocin — a hormone produced when embracing — is the main way to generate trust between people. But, if someone tries to hug me, I’m way less likely to trust them with my iPhone password.

The Huffington Post makes it sound as if this is the only way to establish bonding — haven’t you ever heard of liking the same episode of “Parks and Rec” or shared a hatred for Mexican food? Connecting through mutual interests is typically the first step in creating a friendship, not going in to cuddle.

Although I preach a no-hug life, I have been trying to force myself to dole some out. I’m working on making myself more accustomed to them so I can conquer my fear.

One hug a day is the goal. The only reason I’m putting myself through this living hell is because I’m the one in control — I can choose if it’s Lila who’s going to get one during Harbinger announcements or if Reilly will get a semi-awkward (I’m still getting the hang of it) one during passing period.

I can’t keep making my mom feel bad when I don’t hug back and I’m pretty sure my extended family thinks I hate them due to my unenthusiastic embraces, so it’s time I learn to hug (just not all the time).