"How are you?" "Well, shitty, now that I've been forced to kiss you."

Americans aren’t big on greetings, especially we Midwesterners, who would probably meet a friend at the airport whom they hadn’t seen for 15 years with a hello that would quickly segue into “Wow, you brought so much stuff!” or “Sorry, my car is parked all the way across the lot.”

In other parts of the world, however, they have greetings, which are small social rituals in which one must engage, apparently, every time you ever see anyone whom you have ever met before. These greetings differ from place to place but are always unnecessarily long and filled with formulaic utterances and far more touching than ever needs to take place between two people who are basically strangers.

I hate greetings.

I hate touching acquaintances. I hate asking questions whose answers do not interest me. I hate circulating through crowds and making sure everyone has been greeted, or said goodbye to. So I have made for myself (and you all) a Taxonomy of Expatriate Greetings to keep straight in my head what it is I am supposed to do when I see someone I have previously met. Even if it was only once.

The French are very efficient—left cheek, right cheek, wham-bam and we’re done. I can live with this, a small and pointless social ritual somehow made comforting by the no-nonsense way in which it is carried out.

The Indians are moving targets. Two cheek kisses? Three? A hug or handshake—while kissing on the cheek? The torture is endless, and exacerbated by long exchanges of “How are you?” and “I am fine” and “How has been the week?” and “I think you have gained weight.” Grit teeth, move on to...

The British and the Germans. They pick up on my body language that screams “Don’t touch me”—torso turned to the side, crossed or loose arms, tense shoulders. The emotional reserve kicks in and they back off. Thanks, guys. I think I understand my Anglo-Saxon roots a bit better. Then there are the...

...other Europeans and the South Africans, who pick up on my body language too but decide to ignore it and forge ahead with the greeting anyway. This creates for me a miniature daytime nightmare of awkwardness in which stalks all manner of gruesome half-sideways-hugs and aborted cheek kisses and weird little leans toward and away from each other that end in an abrupt pullback and nervous foot-shuffling and a doubtful sideways glance. But worst of all are...

...other Americans. We’ve all been away from home so long that we have forgotten how to execute the proper bone-crushing handshake or bear hug. One exchange involved an attempt on my part to shake hands, which turned into my attempt to hug, during which it dawned on me in horror that this American was trying to kiss my cheek—but I was not properly positioned, so we broke off the exchange. I continued to feel socially awkward for the rest of the party.

Just promise me that when I see you all again, we can have a simple handshake, or a joyous hug, and get right down to talking without endless formalities. I think that’s my birthright as an American :)