Low-hanging fruit

It isn’t easy for a bloke my age:

we grew up when men didn’t give an inch.

But these days every time we meet someone

we half-expect to go in for a clinch.

The problem is we never know for sure:

does this guy really want to clasp me tight?

Perhaps he feels much the same as me,

in which case, would a hand-shake be all right?

And if we have to do it, how’s it done:

arms flung out wide, full contact head to feet?

Or that brisk shoulder-bump-and-pat you see

when effortlessly cool young people meet.

Of course, I know I really should embrace it:

but every single time, I think, oh bugger,

I wish I wasn’t living in an age

when everybody has to be a hugger.