High Fives and Trust Falls

Have you ever gone in for a high five and your partner in crime jerks away at the last second? To the other person, it's a haha-gotchya! moment, but to me, it's BETRAYAL.

It's a betrayal because I am very, very bad at high fives. I go up, I line up, I mess up. My coordination is just that lame. Yes, I've tried the trick of watching the other person's elbow. IT DOESN'T WORK GUYS. Instead of crisply smacking my partner's palm with my own fleshy extremity, I aim for their elbow. It results in an awkward chase as my hand goes down and they try to follow. I can't tell you how many of my high fives go like this:

"High five!"
"Yeah!"
*awkward chase*
"Oh, let's try that again."

Despite this, I always give it my all. I love high fives. They're the all-purpose contact sport of communication. You just had a baby? High five!  Saying goodbye to a random acquaintance and you don't want to hug them? High five!  It's time for ice cream? High fives all around!  And when you give a really good high five, the kind that makes a sharp cracking sound and your palm sting a little but not too much, you achieve high five mastery for the day. It's pretty much worthy of another high five.

So when somebody pulls that haha-gotchya! thing on me, I really feel hurt. Not because they just made me look even stupider than I usually do during a high five. It's because when we're winding up for a high five, it's a commitment. I'm going to smack your hand and you're going to smack mine. We have entered a morally binding contract until smacking do us part. If you pull that high five, you have essentially served me divorce papers. I'm taking the house AND the kids!

Don't do this, people. If you were doing trust falls, would you hold your arms out until your partner turned around but then let them fall to the ground? No. You wouldn't, because that would be a betrayal.


What they do? They're smiling in your face!