Hugs are so underrated.

Not the polite, half-hearted ones. I’m talking about those tight, real hugs- where your arms wrap around someone, and for a few seconds, both of you forget everything else. The noise fades. The chaos pauses. And all that remains is warmth.

Yes, I am a hugger. Always have been.

Even when the world told me to hold back, I never did. I hugged with honesty, feeling, and love.

As a middle-aged gay man, I’ve seen years of people being cautious with their emotions, careful with their touch. But I never learned that lesson. I never wanted to. My arms have always been open for friends, strangers, and anyone who needed to feel seen.

But here’s the truth: very few hugged me back.

I’ve often stood in moments where my embrace wasn’t returned with the same warmth. Where people hesitated. They stiffened. As if affection were something to be ashamed of. As if a genuine hug was too intimate, too much.

And over time, I’ve seen something even more heartbreaking.

We’ve started forgetting what a real hug feels like.

In our conversations about good touch and bad touch – both of which are incredibly important – we seem to have left something behind: safe touch. Loving touch. Human touch. The kind that doesn’t take, doesn’t cross lines, but simply says, “You matter to me.”

Somewhere along the way, we became so cautious, so guarded, that we forgot the power of a simple, tight hug.

Now, we brush shoulders and call it closeness. We side-hug to keep it “comfortable.” We give air kisses and move on. But real connection? That’s slipping away.

I still hug. I still hope.

Because for me, a hug isn’t just a greeting. It’s a moment of truth. A way to show someone that they are not alone in this messy, beautiful world.

So from today, when you meet someone you care about, pause. Hold them. Let it be real.

Not every hug will be returned. But when it is, you’ll both know that something beautiful just passed between two hearts.

Because I am a hugger. And I still believe hugs can heal.