You hug a child and squeeze a granny but you always embrace a lover.
You shake hands with a stranger and bow to your elders but with lovers you embrace.
You can embrace an idea or an opportunity, you can even embrace Buddhism.
It’s the kind of word that embarrassed me when I was younger.
‘Making Love’ embarrassed me, the word ‘darling’ put me on the spot as did the vulnerability of being embraced.
Sensibilities were different when I was a growing lad.
We had jokes that belied any kind of sensitivity.
An Australian walks into a pub, and asks the barmaid for some ice cubes. He throws one on the floor and stamps on it and says
‘Well that’s broken the ice do you fancy a fuck?’
I’m not sure I ever found it funny but it was the kind of banter we thrived on back in the 80’s.
Slapping bums
Stealing kisses.
Wolf Whistling.
Gone was the way of petticoats and hidden ankles.
If anyone had asked to embrace me I would have laughed in their face.
Keeping a close watch on my self protection, not revealing any weakness and keeping a stiff upper lip, was how I survived the onslaught of masculinity.
On the morning of TVam’s launch, every newspaper was there. Peter Jay gave a speech, introducing all the presenters from Mike Morris to Wincey Willis – both dead – the cameras flashed and the atrium was alight with anticipation. When Peter got to the end of his speech he said
‘Last but no means least. we have Jenny Bartlet.’
There was a lone clap, one single clap that summed up my time on that station.
I was then whisked away into the bosses window walled office.
The boss wore a huge silver bracelet and had the charisma of a moose.
‘We’re taking you off Michael Parkinson. Sorry. There’s been a change of line up.’
‘I’ve just been fucking snapped by every fucking newspaper in the fucking country, and now you’re fucking telling me I’ve been fucking sacked.’
That mealy mouthed brown nose whispered in my ear as he put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed my flesh.
‘You’ve taken it just like a man.’
Foolishly I overreacted. I should have remained silent and taken my punishment, but that was never my way.
Speaking out when injustice bubbles over like molten iron is better for both the parties.
Holding stuff in was my mothers modus operandi, she ended up with cancer and a sack load of regrets.
Medical researchers have declared;
‘Embracing is important because it provides emotional support, reduces stress, and can improve overall health by boosting the immune system and lowering blood pressure. It also fosters feelings of happiness and connection through the release of hormones like oxytocin.’
I’m 5ft. I was once one and a quarter inches taller, even then I was still a short arse. I didn’t realise how small I was until the first time a rugby player embraced me. Like a baby I was swaddled in his arms. He wrapped his arms around me, enclosed me and I thought I was in love. He had momentarily shut out the world. I was safe, and putty in this hands.
One embrace, though, doth not a marriage make.
He was, in fact, a total dick.
I am a great hugger.
I won’t say embracer because its not appropriate.
An embrace is pregnant with tenderness ( another embarrassing word from my youth). The softness of a touch. The opening of a closed heart. An invitation for intimacy.
When I first met the old git I was reading Engels’ ‘The Origin of the Family, Private Property and the State.’ Probably the most effective contraceptive device there is.
I was about as soft as a breeze block.
We all know it was because my father was a pillock, but it took me a long time to learn that showing weakness didn’t render you a snivelling drip.
Now the nature of an embrace is important.
If your partner has loose arms and spidery fingers it makes for a less than supportive embrace.
If your partner does not close their eyes whilst embracing you, then you can kiss goodbye to romance.
If your partner embraces with stiff shoulders and a military back, forget it.
An embrace has to be malleable and soft, gentle and firm at the same time.
It has to engender a sense of security.
Nat King Cole sung about “Embraceable You”
Embrace me
My sweet embraceable you
Embrace me
You, irreplaceable you
Just one look at you
My heart grows tipsy in me
You and you alone
Bring out the gypsy in me
I love all
The many charms about you
Above all
I want my arms around you
Don’t be a naughty baby
Come to papa, come to papa do
My sweet embraceable you
Being a naughty baby and going to papa does smack of a peadophilick encounter with old flabby Trump, but the rest of the song illustrates my point.
Apparently embracing someone for a number of seconds increases your life expectancy.
If I can prise the old git out of his revelry, I might get a few extra years.
Failing that I’ll watch a Mark Ruffalo film.