I grew up in a huge family where, each night, my mother insisted that we give kisses, huggs, and tell each other "I love you". 8 siblings, 17 years, each night.... you do the math. It was more than easy most of the time; effortless when the huggs and warm words come like next breaths. I suppose my mother knew we'd need all this "gushiness" given the economic, social, and psychological barriers to growing up healthy, functional black children in the rural South.
My parents were very affectionate.... when they were (together). Juxtaposed to the bouts of domestic violence we witnessed as often as the slow-dancing or holding, i suppose the warmth witnessed was all the more cherished. I suppose seeing this planted some expectation in lil Tim'm's mind about how things should or shouldn't be.
I remember leaving home for college. the seeming absence of baby bruh or sis "needing" me, feeling comforted and more safe because of me, was emotionally devastating. I sought out ways to fill the void. The best instances of which were endearing friendships with people who became adopted family, given the physical (and sometimes emotional) distance from my own. But there was another side to that affection that, once explored, would lead to even greater complications. The first kiss, the first time that I held someone's hand, the first time I cuddled, it seemed to surpass even the safety i felt from my family in that house off the dirt road in Arkansas. It was the sweetest symbolic gesture and then some.
I suppose it didn't so much matter that the person really loved me or not. I brought a whole range of feelings TO that (e)motion of spooning, cuddling, caressing, and yes, sex. And this is where things get murky: sorting out the distinction between the sign and the signified, the act of affection and the love it represents, is a task that I think i'm still grappling with.
At best, sometimes I provide myself that warmth (I love pillows), or am able meet needs for affection through platonic friends or a special someone. Admittedly, there's something about being a teacher-- about knowing that more than a few students each day will extend arms for a hugg or tell you that they love and appreciate you-- that I like having access to (trust me... I'm probably EXTRA-cautious about THAT boundary). But there's something terribly disturbing to me lately about the "need" for it. When I don't feel I'm getting enough affection in my life, my self-esteem and self-image suffer. So in truth, the affection I experienced as a child has haunted me as both a blessing and a curse.
So at worst, I've invited people to hold me who didn't have the best intentions, or who didn't have intentions at all beyond filling some unidentified void of their own. At worst I've been sexual with people when all I really wanted was to hold someone or be held-- the sense of emotional safety. I figured that sometimes sex was the means to the end. Maybe I saw the cuddle as my reward for being a sexual stud. But I'm older and a bit more self-critical now. I have few issues with saying that it's (only) affection that i desire. But something's got me all stuck on stuck about it-- feeling like a punk or that i'll come across as too needy if I want a hugg that lasts for more than a few seconds.
There's this woman at my job who gives the best huggs; so much that they make me a little uncomfortable. She huggs me and stays and humms... and I really feel the sincerity of it. She makes me miss my mother, and I suppose that's why it bothers me. I'd like to have huggs like that in my life on the daily. Is that being too needy? Should I request them? Is that asking too much?
My dad, interestingly, is more gushy than my mom. He was the pinacle of masculinity for me, and yet so warm and affectionate. I think I'm a lot like him. A punk who gets punked by his own desire for affection. I'd like to learn to be okay with my inheritance, understanding that it requires different things from me depending on the people I'm with. However, I don't like that I've become fearful of asking for it, offering it, even needing it.
A few more considerations:
Should all affection be purposeful? Should it mean something? And what is too much or too little? Is it okay to ask for it? And if you really have to ask for it, then is it "pure"?
I wonder about this as I encounter people in my life, with perhaps different family histories around affection. What is the relationship between what we grow up seeing/experiencing and what we come to expect as adults, especially in our friendships and intimate relationships. When do our own expectations to duplicate what we are accustomed to become selfish and inconsiderate? Or is it about finding people with the same affection-orientation? Personally, I have friends on both sides of the spectrum. I can't say I value the gushy friends more than the anti-cupids.
When my homie Cenzo lived with me, we cared for his two cats. Inky was gushy and cuddled with me while watching basketball or crawled in the bed at night. Ms. Gorgeous was feline queen of the anti-cupids. Yet, when I couldn't find Ms. G around the house, I was as worried as if it were Inky. Gushy wasn't her style. Over time, I came to appreciate how she showed affection: feed her, spank her, a slight touch there, leave her alone (repeat cycle every few hours). LOL. But I think some people are like that. I try not to pity them. LOL
I've been more affectionate than most of the male partners I've had, as affectionate as most of the female partners. I've never felt the need for affection when with women, whereas I always feel I (can) never get enough with guys. Is it a gender thing? Does affection make men feel too vulnerable? Maybe I just haven't dated the non-affectionate women.
The beauty of affection for me is that you CAN feel vulnerable and there's the TRUST and SECURITY that the one who holds, huggs, kisses you.... is really holding it down... they've got your back. And there are times when I shouldn't need that to feel emotionally safe. There are other times when I feel I am lacking far too much of that-- that I've become a wimp to my fear of needing what may, perhaps, be a healthy, daily dose of affection-substance. I am fearful of admitting that I sleep better with it, I wake up better with it, and go about my day stronger with it. And it's not just through the touching, but the sentiment that words can carry: the tone, the inflection, the gestures that complement... can be sunshine where there's little light otherwise.
so what now? I suppose I'm trying to find balance. I'm learning to find affection in ways that I don't traditionally recognize. Sometimes the eyes or the frequency of calls is someone else's equivalent to my huggs and kisses. My current "special-someone" makes me laugh alot, whereas my sense of humor is kinda....well.... of the dry, sarcastic, witty sort. Humor is the glue, I feel, that keeps us most happy, healthy, and optimistic about what we're exploring. I hope to experience a lot more of that. When we're not finding ways to laugh, things are usually tense, dull, unhealthy.
I'm learning to accept that some of the people who've loved me most may not have been the most affectionate... and that maybe I have to open up to seeing things differently, even as I articulate my desire for more physicality and warmth. Yes.... I'm King Tim'm from the land of GUSH. But I'd like to think that there's some space between the "touchy-feelies" and the "anti-cupids" that's a nice happy medium. Finding that balance is what requires communication: finding the courage to explore our affection histories, where we feel they are connected to how we feel about affecton in the present. I'd like to become more comfortable saying what is too little affection for me, and accepting what may be too much for someone else. (And I'm admittedly biased: "too-much affection" sounds like an oxymoron).
and all this "soapboxing" because I hugged a student and her mother today, and wondered if, over these holidays and away from blood-family, I'd have to wait until January to get as gracious an embrace again... the kind offered to me... hands extended... knowing I'll stay, fall into it, enjoy it for more than a few seconds. You know the kind?! Gushy.... like we gushy people like it.
