Introduction I'm a hugger. If allowed, I will hug you upon beingintroduced, upon parting, upon your having madea particularly good joke. Don't get me wrong, I'ma believer in the power of a good handshake (firm butnot aggro, eye contact, no weird finger waggles), but thehug is my standard as far as physical punctuation goes. I am also, however, an awkward person. The flipside of my comfort with physical contact is a fear ofletting people see just how much I want physical contact--I'm a half-trained golden retriever of a woman, barely holding my seat, wagging my tail, and whining a little in my throat, hoping you'll pat my head so I can jump up and lick you all over your face. In my enthusiasm, I am more than likely to knock over your drink,trip over my own feet, or accidentally grope you. I am sorry, in advance. Not so long ago, we had rules for this sort of thing.

While your grandmother might not have been ableto quote Emily Post chapter-and-verse, she more thanl ikely had a sense of the broad strokes of social etiquette,or at the very least, a vague notion that such athing as good manners existed. Commonly acceptedrules for polite interaction were societal foundation garments, keeping everything in place so as to presenta smooth and jiggle-free façade. But that was then, and this is now. We are a peoplewho will wear leggings as pants. Absent a social codeand the rituals designed to express it, we are left witha general idea of "be nice" with no particular acceptedmethod of being so. None of us quite knows what todo with our bodies. Jiggles abound. We find ourselveslost in a world full of physical indecision and potential gaffes.

Do we shake hands? Do we hug? Do we--horrors--kiss on the cheek? Both cheeks? Will I bonk yourforehead with mine because I cannot remember whichside I'm supposed to kiss first? Hugs seem kind, theyseem friendly--the Mr. Rogers-in-his-home-in-a-cardigan-and-Keds of greetings--but absent widely understoodrules on how and where to deploy them, we'relikely to screw those up too. Like you, I've been the giver and receiver of many awkward hugs. I've witnessed them from afar and up close. I've watched them take place between significant others, family members, and coworkers, each one awkward and uncommon in its own unique way. It is a universal experience, and if we can't agree on a socialcode anymore, the least we can do is find some warm fellow-feelings in our collective confusion. I've bungled a number of hugs, and I bet you have too. I hope this book serves to let us laugh together at our foibles, and relax enough to remember that the whole point of socialniceties is nothing more than putting each other atease.

Now c'mere, you.