I hate hugging. And people touching me. I'd love to know who decided mashing your body against someone elses body and holding them there so they can't escape was a sign of affection.
Many years ago now, when I was 18, at my Nans funeral, I was trying to clamp down on an anxiety attack after being hugged by so many strangers during the receiving line, so was stood with my sisters waiting for the cars to come round. Out of nowhere, a complete randomer, had never met her before in my life, and who i later learned was one of my aunts friends, grasped my shoulders, spun me round and seized hold of me in this giant bear hug, out of nowhere and was sobbing in my ear about how lovely my eulogy was. I could not get her to let go. My dad, seeing my face, which i'm sure could only be described as OMG get this crazy lady off me before I kick her in the knee caps, came over, and extracted me, saying it was time to get in the cars back to the wake.
By the time we got to the wake, I was ready to punch the next person who touched me without permission. That person ended up being one of my grandads cousins, who was in his 40s, and grasped hold of my shoulders and pulled me in to him so he could creepily sort of whisper shout in my ear that he would be keeping a close eye on me because its what my Nan would have wanted him to do. My mum intervened that time, when she saw the fist forming, and knowing how I feel about my personal space bubble.
Worse part is NONE of my 3 siblings were subjected to the bear hug woman, or our distant cousins creep fest. We are all close in age. I am not my parents oldest or youngest child, and am the middle of their 3 female children. It just confirmed to me that for the next "Dads family" funeral, I'm going to wear something with barbs.