The One Thing I Never Expected To Miss While Social Distancing

As social distancing continues, do you find yourself surprised over the things you miss? Things like strolling through Hobby Lobby and filling your shopping cart with decor you don’t really need, decor you eventually talk yourself out of and return to the shelves so you can walk out of the store empty-handed and think, “Well, that was a waste of time,” until a few weeks later when you eagerly return to repeat the whole process. 

Yeah, I miss that too.

And the longer this continues, the more things I find myself missing. Things I never would have dreamed of missing. Things I never even used to like. Things I previously would have walked barefoot over hot coals to avoid.

Things like wedding receiving lines. 

Friends, I don’t know what it is about that line. But when I see that trail of happy, well-dressed people, my inner Jerry Lewis rises to the surface, takes over my body, and suddenly I’m the most socially awkward version of myself possible. 

I blame my dad. He got inside my head years ago when we were leaving a wedding ceremony, and he leaned over and whispered, “I hate these receiving lines. I always worry I’ll get nervous and end up shaking hands with the bride and kissing the groom.”

I laughed at the time, but soon discovered the struggle was real. What is the proper etiquette when you don’t know everyone all that well? Especially when the receiving line isn’t limited to the bride and the groom, but includes parents, grandparents, sometimes the entire wedding party? 

What’s a person to do? Give hugs? Shake hands? They’re all so happy. Are they going to want to hug me? Maybe. I’m not much of a hugger. Yet shaking hands feels like a business transaction. The best solution I could come up with was to place my arms and hands in a neutral position—one that could transition into a hug, handshake, friendly wave, possibly jazz hands—at the slightest provocation. 

It served me well for years until one particular wedding. One particular receiving line. One particular mother of the groom. 

We didn’t know each other, so I wasn’t sure what to expect. Her arm moved. Mine responded. Somehow we found ourselves clasped in a bro-handshake. Based on the way we began jerking each other’s hands in a back and forth motion, I guarantee neither of us expected that. 

Recalling the bewildered look on her face, I wonder now if she was actually attempting to tug her hand free. 

Not wanting to repeat that performance again, I told myself to keep my arms glued to my sides during the next wedding I attended, which of course had a lengthy receiving line after the ceremony.

All was well until I got to the darn mother of the groom again. (I’m tempted to think they’re the problem, not me.) 

Maybe because the end of the line was in sight, maybe because I was already thinking about wedding cake, who knows, but I had allowed myself to relax. She was talking and smiling. I was talking and smiling back. She lifted her hand. I lifted mine. And next thing I knew, I had grabbed hold of her pointer finger. That’s right, her pointer finger.

Why? Because she was pointing to the stairs that led to the reception hall and not offering a handshake.

But here’s the thing. When you’ve latched onto a grown woman’s pointer finger, you only have one option. You have to commit. You have to act as if this is a perfectly acceptable handshake. More so, the type of handshake you intended all along. In fact, you have to hold on longer than the average handshake just to convey how perfectly normal this interaction is. 

Up and down, up and down. “What a beautiful wedding.” Up and down, up and down. “Absolutely lovely.” Up and down, up and down. “Where did you say the reception was again?”

I probably don’t have to tell you when my husband and I married, I refused to have a receiving line. I told him he could stand in a line and shake hands with socially awkward women all day long if he wanted, but I was hiding in the closet until everyone left.

Yet now, as social distancing continues, I can’t help feel nostalgic over those memories. I actually long for the day I can grab someone by the hand (or finger) and say, “What a beautiful wedding.”  

What about you? Any socially awkward situations you find yourself missing these days? Or just any socially awkward stories in general? Tell me. I’d love to hear them.