One of my favorite things my son does is assume that my lap is still an automatic place for him to belong. Especially in the mornings, bleary-eyed and clutching a worn stuffed seal, he'll put his leg on the bottom rung of my chair to signal his arrival, and I have to quickly get a last gulp of coffee down before I slide the cup out of the way on the table.

He's always been physically affectionate, plopping down next to me as we watch TV and molding himself to my body. The recliner I bought when I was first pregnant with his older sister barely fits us, but now he'll lay across my lap, seal under his head, ignoring the dubious stains that made my husband ask if the recliner hadn't seen the last of its good days.

I came from a physically affectionate family for the most part, even though my husband might disagree as he comes from a culture much more effusive with physical touch that I tend to recoil from. What can I say: Cheek-kissing strangers rubs me the wrong way. I love a good handshake or knocking on a table to greet everyone gathered — German efficiency at its finest.

So when I took my husband to Germany to meet my family and laid down on the couch next to my aunt, someone a stranger to him, I could see his surprise.

There's something about touch that is lost for men as time wears on, especially in American culture. Men should not expect physical touch from anyone, particularly not other men unless they are in an act of sport or violence.

Author Jason Pargin noted that part of the fantasy of movies is not just the heroics but that men can freely embrace one another — in joy, in relief, in grief — without suffering the backlash to their core sexual identities. A reply to Pargin's commentary expanded on the idea with a memory. He explained that he clearly remembered how as a 13-year-old boy leaving his grandfather's home, he was, for the first time, offered a handshake instead of a hug.

Both men and women are hard-wired for sympathetic touch. Scientists have studied how even light touches have the ability, especially in adults, to relieve stress. In a 2017 study in PLOS ONE, the authors explained that "parental touch is a key regulator of an infant's physiological and behavioral arousal and in adults, supportive physical contact from a spouse or partner has been shown to modulate physiological responses to an acute stressor to a significantly greater degree than verbal support."

But what if you don't have that partner, and without others, loneliness evades much like the darkness following the setting sun? How does loneliness affect our more negative cultural traits? It's not to say that the cure is a Coke and a hug, but I think some understanding that emotions require you to sit near a friend, leg to leg, human to human, and even give an awkward pat as we relearn these skills stripped from us, is needed.

I remember, too, that masculine coldness that was foisted on me by my father. I was about 12 when he told me I needed to start calling him Dad instead of Daddy. At the moment, I was hurt, and I stewed on the shift for a long while, especially since my use of "Dad" probably would have evolved naturally over time — something that randomly came up the other night with my son.

"I love you, Mama," he said, wheedling to get more time, even though his eyes drooped.

"I love you too. You know, someday you'll maybe want to call me Mom," I told him at bedtime when, of course, all the heart-to-hearts tend to spill out. "Or Ma."

"Mom," he said, trying it out. He laughed and said, "That's strange, Mama."

Cassie McClure is a writer, millennial, and unapologetic fan of the Oxford comma. She can be contacted at [email protected]. To find out more about Cassie McClure and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate website at www.creators.com.

Photo credit: Josue Escoto at Unsplash