Hugs and flowers

Another day of ruling the world with an iron fist … and trying not to punch myself in the face with it. Or anyone else’s.

I got to thinking about hugs. (Because, needed.) Although I grew up with an affectionate mom and grandfather, I was anti-hug most of my life.

One of my boys called himself a Sap Monster. He was the emotional and thoughtful and affectionate one. Me, not so much.

He lived for hugs and all that went with them. Me, yeah. I was not his match there. I’m more of the, “Hole. Fill it” type.

Cuddling? Enh. I didn’t know guys were into that. So I never thought much about it up to that point.

He didn’t give up on me, though. He comes in and out of my life. In some ways, I am so much tougher than when we met. But in many other ways, I am also much softer.

I never give him the credit he deserves for that. Or maybe the shit instead of the credit. 🙂 After all, ain’t nobody got time for this “needing to collapse against someone and being able to let it be their problem for 10 minutes” crap, after all.

I realized just a few moments ago that I never put down my burdens because I have to be the one to pick them back up again. Why lose momentum, I say.

But right about now, I wouldn’t mind being able to regroup and gain some strength back.

It’s like when I heard a saying in high school — that maybe I wouldn’t be so against people sending flowers if I happened to get some every once in a while.

I guess that’s true with hugs. Although whether it’s hugs or flowers … I wouldn’t say no to either. Now or any day.

Clearly I need to go buy myself a flower.

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