Today I experienced the dreaded "limp-wristed handshake." You know what I'm talking about--when a grown-up who should know better reaches out to shake your hand, and before you know it, you're engaged in that lamest-of-all-handshakes, that flaccid excuse for a metacarpal contract, the limp-wristed handshake.
Do you hate it as much as I do? Do you do your best to anticipate it, to make a mid-air approach adjustment in order to mitigate the limpness? You can see it coming: the telltale obtuse-angled wrist, thumb standing like a misleading sentry of strength. You know there is no real way to mitigate it; that the shake-initiator has all the power. Why is that? It makes no sense; it's completely counter-intuitive.
I feel cheated by a limp-wristed handshake. Expecting a firm, reassuring, human connection that communicates with energy and warmth, "Yes! I'm glad you're in the world!", instead I get an unconvincing, half-assed "Ummm. Yes, I see you have a hand. Whatever."
I can almost--almost!--understand this handshake from a woman. I assume when a woman shakes my hand like she has fragile bone syndrome of the wrist, that she was just never taught that a firm handshake communicates honesty and genuine good will. Sometimes I'll even let her in on the firm handshake code.
But--and I know this is not totally fair--when a man can't even summon the strength, initiative, and determination to put his hand out there like he means it, and greet me with an unambiguous, robust handshake with a firm wrist and sincere eye-contact, then I'm automatically annoyed.
Talk to me, people. Is this blog completely off-base? Is a handshake, after all, just a handshake? Or does it communicate way more about a person than he or she may even realize?
I'm just sayin'.