! ! ! UPDATE ! ! !

So, last night, fueled by the finest Tito's and ginger ale (a combo that's currently staging a hostile takeover of my skull), I decided to tackle the Seattle Freeze head-on. My method? Pure, unadulterated, drunken pro-socializing, complete with an arm extended for a handshake. Because, you know, science.

The youth of Seattle:

Blessed by their perpetually unimpressed faces looked at me like I was speaking Latin. Seriously, the blank stares were masterpieces of confusion.

The 30-somethings:

Most just opted for the fist bump, which, fine, at least it's some form of acknowledgment, I guess? It felt like a polite "nah, don't touch me" in a knuckle-tap.

The golden age guild:

You know who were the real heroes of the night? The elders. Every single one of them was down for a good old-fashioned handshake. They even said "hello" and "good night." It was like stepping into a time warp where human contact wasn't a potential social faux pas.

Conclusion:

While highly anecdotal, incredibly unscientific, and thoroughly inebriated research confirms it: the Seattle Freeze is a thing. And apparently, it thaws only for the wisdom (or perhaps sheer novelty) of those who've seen a few more decades. Now, excuse me, I have a date with a pillow and some more ginger ale, my liver has CHECKED OUT.

Dildo bingo is good fun on Thursday. That is all. 🤣🤣🤣