Wednesday, July 25, 2012

My personal space...or keep your goddamn distance

One would think having grown up in a city with wall to wall people, this wouldn't bother me.  You'd imagine I became accustomed to the feeling of stranger skin on mine.  Dear God, no, I have not.  Nor will I ever want you to graze, or heaven-forbid press your stinky, sweaty, hairy leg up against mine on a train.  Never should I be able to smell your breath waiting on line at Safeway. Tons of empty seats on the bus, sit in them!  Don't rush over to park your ass in the one next to me. I love my space...I don't love you in it.  You can say this could be an only-child thing, never having to share anything.  With all confidence, I say to you BALLS.  This is all me and my own quirky way of going through life.
I was the kid who broke out into a sweat when informed that a relative was coming over to the house.  Why?  Because Italian relatives love to TOUCH you!!!  They hug, and kiss, and massage, and pinch your cheeks, and fucking just plain touch you.  This was my worst nightmare. I was not a very physical child, my joys came from verbal interactions. Yet, someone in my family would inevitably approach me with arms outspread, giant heaving boobs, having taken a whore's bath in some god-awful perfume, wanting to smother me with love.  Kissing me all over my face, leaving giant bright red lipstick smears from cheek to cheek. Then of course, her husband would bumble along and want to pinch my already flaming cheeks.  Not a gentle pinch, hell no!  One of those tightly grabbing, face jiggling, painful pinches using the knuckles.  Mother of God, I can still feel it!
Maybe this is why I don't want you so freaking close to me. When I am walking on the sidewalk and there is a ton of room on my left, because I am walking on the right, like everyone should...why is it necessary to come so close that you slam into me and my purse?  I'm not a very big person to begin with, and usually the person doing the slamming isn't either. Delusions of self-importance?  Body dysmorphic disorder?  No sense of body control?  I can't explain it, but I can tell you that if you do slam into me, I'm going to slam back.  The person doing the slamming almost never apologizes.  Which leads me to think that my initial belief that they may be deluded about their own importance is likely to be the reason.  Nobody needs THAT much room.  Even the Pope can walk without nailing an oncoming pedestrian.  Now, HE's important.  You, not so much.
This is the same person in the store who can't navigate an aisle without bumping or shoving me out of their way.  Is excuse me in your vocabulary? Again, I don't take up a hell of a load of space, you can walk around me. You choose not to...why? Is this an expression of anger or are you that goddamn clumsy that you can't walk a straight fucking line? Either way, stop shoving me.  When I shove back, you may just hit the floor.  I won't say excuse me either.  More likely, it'll be something along the lines of, "Back the fuck off, bitch" or something resembling that. Manners have gone out the window these days, I know that.  But basic common courtesy isn't that hard. Nor is keeping your body to yourself.  Try it.
And no, I don't want you to talk so closely to me that I can see the empty gums where your wisdom teeth used to be.  Smelling your breath is not on my list of things to do today, and it won't ever be, so step back. Close talkers are the worst offenders of personal space invasion.  Their proximity causes me to be forced to not only see them more closely than I'd ever like to see someone not in my bed, but worse than that, they are likely to be touching me and worst of all, I have to smell them.  I work very hard at smelling good, and assaulting my senses with your stench is unacceptable.  What you think smells good, probably chokes all the oxygen out of me.  I can hear you even at a few paces back.  No need to be nose to nose, thanks.
Am I a bit odd?  Probably.  But rest assured, I won't invade your zone of privacy anytime soon, so odd or not, you are safe. Am I going to keep walking to the right and avoiding the shit out of everyone who passes by me?  You bet your ass I am!  Stepping back as you creep closer while emitting your dragon breath at me? That'll be me. Will I keep quiet the next time one of you gets all up in my grill?  Are you friggin kidding me right now???

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