on a much lighter, but touchier subject: i’d like to talk about my personal bubble.
i’d consider myself a cuddly / physical touch person (i think this just registered me for the sex offender list. oops). the *HUGE*ASTERISK* next to this sentence is that it is pretty much exclusively with whom i’m close and even then, i can be selective. i’m not a germophobe and there’s no other substantial reason why this is, i guess i just see no reason for random people touching me (tell your kids this one day). due to a recent situation on an airplane, i started thinking about some really touching moments (how many times do you think i can use the “touch” pun here? too many, that’s how many).
- the overly-friendly friend. we all have them. the one that touches your hair and puts their hands on your shoulders when they talk to you (like, why is this necessary, i have no idea.) and in general insists on carrying around needles to pop your personal space bubble as often as possible. i have had friends that i had to keep backing away from (literally and figuratively) because being able to see their back row of teeth and being able to feel their breath isn’t my idea of quality conversating. there are friends that i will willingly snuggle up to and hug more than others, but unless i KNOW they dig it, i’m gonna respect their body (more advice to tell your kid). to those of you who believe that everyone loves your physical displays of affection, liken it to the obnoxious couple who won’t stop making out in public: it’s appreciated from far away and in small quantities but too much of it from too near a distance is nauseating.
- the people who think the airplane row is their couch at home. oh my. there are so many layers to this one. i’m generally pretty understanding that this is a form of public transportation. there will be people next to you… really close to you, if you decide to be a cheap-o and purchase economy tickets or the like. however, i have little to no tolerance for those who sprawl out with their socks off and have body odor reeking to high heaven. listen, i get it. we all stink. we’re all stuck in a little tube for lots of hours and it is not going to be pretty or fragrant. but there’s a line in the sand (okay, really, it’s drawn in permanent marker and you may not pass) when you put your feet up on either side of the back of the seat in front of you so that i can’t even put my tray table down. no ma’am. no sir. i will jam that table on top of your foot so fast, your bare feet won’t know what hit them. or how about the man that has one knee up in the seat and the rest of his body leaned toward you and taking over the arm rest? oh, him. i sidle up to those people so that eventually, they feel the uncomfortability of my arm resting ever so gently against the whole right side of their body because of their choices. i know for a fact that i have never overstepped my tiny airplane seat boundaries so i will take that speck of dust from your eye, thank you!
- guys in the club***. okay, so i wanted this to sound way cooler than it is. what i really mean is any bar, club or otherwise dance-y place that guys feel the freedom to grope or otherwise harass you under the guise of “dancing”. i love to dance like a fool more than anyone but when a perfect stranger thinks that they can put their “princess sophia” (the break up, anyone?) near you without your consent has lost their damn (sorry, dang) mind. maybe some girls like it or are flattered by it but nothing makes me more disgusted than seeing a guy hump a girl that feels like she can’t get out of it without hurting his feelings. let me let you ladies off the hook — run, don’t walk, away from these children.
okay, so maybe i’m being a bit melodramatic but am i alone in this? what is your most dreaded form of physical touch? who is the perpetrator (getting all SVU up in here)? fill me in.