126/365
Tonight at dinner, Mel, Steph I, and I had a long, extensive conversation about awkward goodbyes. Specifically that moment when you’re not sure what to do at the end of a date and you’re in the car. Do you hug? Do you kiss? The angle is weird, you have your seatbelt on…there’s no clear answer here.
Also, what to do when you’re not a hugger. Steph I is a hugger. You know where you stand when you say goodbye to her. She’s gonna give you a big ole hug. And you hug her back. None of this crappy, lame-o, light, half-hearted hugging. Give a good hug. A hug with meaning. My friend Ellie once gave me a good strong hug after I dropped her off at the airport. It was unexpected and such a pleasant surprise. It was a hug given with conviction. Ever since then I’ve decided if I’m going to hug someone, it’s going to be a good one. Much like a firm handshake is so much more satisfying than a limp one, a good, firm hug is much better than a cursory pat on the back.
But anyways, after dropping Steph I off, we both went in for the hug. And it was the most awkward. Our heads both went the same way, then shifted to avoid each other, but shifted in the same direction. Too much uncertainty and neither of us could commit. It’s ok though, because we got a good, snort-y laugh out of it…which isn’t awkward at all.
