The Hug List

A few weeks ago, I headed to the local watering hole, the Bottom Line, for a Purdue alumni flag football callout. As Jen mentioned, the Purdue team is part of a larger league called CAN. I think this is my fourth year on the team (it's hard to keep track), and through the years, I have met tons of people: the Purdue folks, of course, and players from various other schools. In some ways, it's the same Amanda from college: I can't help it - I just like meeting new people.

Because I work close to the Bottom Line, I tend to head to any weeknight happy hours straight from the office. What this usually means is that I am the first one there. There's only so much time I can waste in my office surfing the net before I'm ready to yaba-daba-do out of there. I try to hold out as long as I can, but sometimes I find myself having to entertain myself/look busy at the bar while waiting for my colleagues to arrive. One of my little exercises in this situation is the cycle of taking my cell phone out of my purse and putting it back in, reading text messages from 3 months ago - anything to stay busy and send out the signal: I have friends, and they're on their way as we speak. Sometimes I try to engross myself in whatever is on the bar t.v. Whether it's an ESPN Classic rerun of the 1985 Rose Bowl, the Little League World Series, or the Bowling Championship, I care! This plan works like a charm; that is, until the program breaks for an uncomfortable commercial, such as the one about that guy with the prostate problem. At that point, though, I am committed and have to remain glued to my program ("I sure hope that new prescription drug can help him out.").

It was in this fragile state, standing at the bar, a few weeks ago that I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around and faced a guy I knew from an opposing team. I've actually known this guy for quite some time (years, in fact), and he has even gone on the Purdue club ski trip a couple of times. I was so relieved that someone I knew finally was in the bar that, immediately after turning around and facing him, I gave him a hello hug. Part way through the hug, however, I realized that I had never given this guy a hug before. Hello . . . awkward. With so many people in the Purdue club being huggers, it is a regular greeting for me - for guys and girls alike. In my excitement of being rescued from my "preoccupation routine," I simply forgot that this guy was not on my "Hug List." What made matters worse was that this guy was there with his dad (who happened to be standing right behind him). Not that I did anything really inappropriate, but I am sure he was like, "Who was that weird girl who came to a bar on a Thursday night alone, and what was she doing throwing herself on you?" I wanted to say something, but what can you say? Sorry I hugged you? A lesson for next time: memorize your "Hug List." Know who's on it, but more importantly, learn how to recognize in a split second who isn't.