Man Hugs and Fist Pumps and Whiskers on Kittens

writer x
photo by ~Denise

Image by ~Denise

After last week’s post on eunuchs, I felt the need to share this post as a public service.

I must have missed the recent memo that instructs the male species to start greeting each other with man hugs and fist pumps. Were you aware? Hey, whatever happened to simple (firm, not wet fish ones) handshakes? Are they too fuddy-duddy? Too 20th Century?

Lately, I’ve been seeing men around my neighborhood behave like a gaggle of grandmothers at a bridge party whenever they’re together. They greet each other like they haven’t seen each other in 10 years. And I’m seeing it everywhere lately—coffee shops, shopping malls, parking lots, my local gym, not just during NBA and football games—so I know it’s not a figment of my admittedly overactive imagination. I’d take a picture as proof and post it here if I knew how to use the camera feature on my cell phone.

It’s particularly amusing to watch the greeting drama at my local gym each morning. That’s where it happens every day like clockwork. Guaranteed. You see, there’s this one group of 6-8 colorful guys who work out about the same time I do. They look to be in their 30’s and 40’s. Nice guys, but still. Every time someone from their little group shows up at the gym, he has to go through this long receiving line of hearty man hugs and fist pumps before he can even begin his workout. It’s hilarious. Sometimes I’ll finish my cardio and start on the weight machines and these guys are still chest-bumping and fist-pumping like a Mama Mia! dance line.

They tried their brand of greeting on me once, probably since I am deemed a gym regular like them. But I quickly put up the hand to stop the man hug, said hello, and ran up the stairs to my usual treadmill on the second floor. Okay, so I did acquiesce and managed a small fist pump on my way up the stairs with the one tall guy whose socks always match the color of his shorts—and, I mean, the exact shade. Friday he wore teal. But, sorry, my hugs are typically reserved only for family members and close friends who’ve survived an episode of The View without opening a vein. Generally my hugs are not for people I recognize simply by their gym shoes and knitted head caps. And, besides, these guys are really sweaty.

Full disclosure: This is the same group that took a poll amongst themselves about whether I had a trust fund or married a Sugar Daddy because why else would a girl be at the gym in the middle of the day? I hated to disappoint the boys. Not. In case you’re wondering, the answer to the trust fund and Sugar Daddy questions are no and no, but I’ll save an Annoying post on that for another day.

Anyway, back to the gaggle of grandmas and their I-haven’t-seen-you-in-forever animated greetings. I kind of regard the man hugs and fist pumps the same way that I regard the nauseating overuse of the word awesome. What will these guys do when a friend really needs a hug?

::Writer X also writes at The 100 Most Annoying Things::

April 27, 2009 8:56 am

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