I agree about handshakes. Hands are disgusting. I'm not really a germ-o-phobe, heck, I'm not even that tidy. Hands are just really personal, and tend to be oily, sweaty, and have a little of everything else as well. And I know I'm always wiping my eyes, rubbing my face, scratching my head, etc, so really people just shouldn't be shaking my hand. I'm always itchy somewhere, there's not much I can do about it. And wouldn't you know it, where the women in my church are always hugging, guess what the men choose? Yep, the hearty handshake. Mind you, before I decided to risk seeming rude (by definition, being rude, I guess) by avoiding handshakes as much as possible, I did find that you can get a lot of a person's personality from the handshake... The lighter ones make me wonder why they bother since they obviously don't care much about it, the stronger ones, to the point of being painful, irritate me to no end because I think people should give some thought before crushing a person's hand (go figure). The ones in between are most tolerable, but it's like a lot of things I've come to avoid in recent years... after a while I just can't take the pressure of trying to figure out which type I'll be dealing with and have chosen to dispense with it rather than try to figure out how firmly to squeeze. Simple civility is enough, surely.
On a different tangent of the same topic... What about too much pressure? I agree that firm touch is better, provided you don't get someone like the crusher handshake types... if someone touches too lightly or is too overbearing, I'm going react poorly. Light touch can bring the nervous cat response, y'know, a startle. Overbearing touch is actually worse... where considerate firmness can set me at ease, roughness can trigger a fight or flight response. This is logical to me, considering what roughness means... attack, force, robbery, rape, the intent to take what you would not give if asked.
I once had a college roommate, a rather hefty girl back when I was tall and thin and fairly weak, decide it would be funny to take a running leap at me when I was bent down writing something in the snow with my finger. So one minute I'm forming words and the next I am face down in a snow drift with this moose on my back. I panicked, thrashed, got out and onto my feet and screamed, I mean primal scream here, "WHY DID YOU DO THAT?" and turned and pelted home as fast as I could run. By the time the bunkies caught up with me I was sitting and drawing repetitive shapes in my sketch pad... over and over and over...
I ask you, do other people, attacked without provocation, roll over and start laughing? She meant no harm, I don't doubt that. There may have been some latent irritation, I certainly wasn't a sweet girl, not careful with my words. But it had been a long time since the rough and tumble days of my childhood. Anyway, I don't get it.
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"Pack up my head, I'm goin' to Paris!" - P.W.
The world loves diversity... as long as it's pretty, makes them look smart and doesn't put them out in any way.
There's the road, and the road less traveled, and then there's MY road.