The Gay Hug is not defined by its action (that is, it is not a “gay” hug) but rather by its occurrence (that is, it is a “type” of hug).
I was first introduced to the Hug in October of 2007. I was in Seattle for a LEGO convention, and as it happened, I had spent a fair amount of time that weekend hanging out with the Gayfols (AFOL is a community-acronym for Adult Fan Of LEGO; “Gayfol” is a portmanteau used by Jonesy and me. I trust you can figure it out with the information just provided). Upon the close of the convention, instead of the awkward wave (or rarely, a handshake), the gayfols each insisted on hugging goodbye.
Fast forward to the past month. As previously alluded on this here blag, I have gone on a few dates. Without fail, upon first meeting, the date will hug as a greeting.
For me, physical contact of this or any sort is reserved for special occasions. My mom will hug me when I am about to leave for school, a foreign country, a far-away city, and rarer still this would occur with my dad (when he saw me off at the airport on my way to SF, for example). I just don’t go around hugging people. I hug and mean it.
But the Gay Hug is so capricious and freely-given. I play my role in the transaction amicably, of course, but inside, I am thinking, “Hands off! This body isn’t to be bandied about by just anyone!”
