If you've ever been to a dance club, you pretty much understand that you have given up your right to have boundaries. Sweaty bodies will most likely be bouncing off you like a quarter off Taylor Lautner's stomach (insert your gay comment directed towards me here). I'm not saying someone can put their hand down your pants without repercussions, but it's been known to happen. Especially on E. From what I hear.
No, I'm talking about daily life. It seems to me that this unwritten rule (the 3-foot circle) that applies in all areas of life aside from clubs, rock concerts and public transportation has gone the way of the Dodo. I've noticed more and more that every time I turn around, I'm stepping on someones foot, bumping chests or even worse, the head knock. I was at an ATM the other day and I literally had to move sideways to get around the man that was standing directly behind me. In the deli, I was paying and someone was standing so close I could feel his breath on my neck and trust me, he didn't have a Altoids fetish.
It's summer people! It's 90 degrees and it's been humid as all fuck. Let's all agree to give each other some space. Bar stools are set up a certain distance apart, so that the customer is close to the bar, but there is a certain amount of space between each patron in an effort to give them their own area. Sure, the guy who comes in to the packed bar is going to lean between you and another, but that's part of the contract. We know it's happening, he says excuse me and we're good. Even better if it's lovely brunette with a huge rack that accidentally boob bumps you on the turn away from the bar. But this is brief satisfaction. That same beauty, who you might like to limit the space between with later isn't going to make you to happy if you can feel her 98.6 while talking about the Jersey Shore or some other mundane topic, while you figure out a way to sway her into your man cave for a little game I like to call, "I'm Jamie Gumb, guess who you are?" Never let them see you sweat? It's become impossible to adhere to that old adage in today's in-your-face world.
Listen, unless I know that later that night my meat thermometer is going to be checking the heat in your inner thighs, please don't come into my area. Sure, if things are going well you can tests the waters, but if you are either not interested or interested in someone else I'm with, please step away from the danger area. I just don't see the need to be so close to someone, I'm not going to know somewhat internally. Are we telling secrets? No, we're talking. I'm not grandpa Joe with the anchor tattoo who has to yell so he can tell you how he met your mother in Saigon on a tour, then corrects himself halfway through when he reminds himself that "that" wasn't your mother. I can hear you. I can see you. I don't need to feel you tell me how your day at work was difficult or how your ex-boyfriend (or girlfriend) is ruining your life. It's truly not necessary and doesn't add to the story. Actually it detracts, because all I'm thinking about is how your making my knee sweat and not in a good way.
Unless you're flirting in an effort to gain my attention and affection, you do not need to touch my arm while you're talking. This is completely fine if you're a little vixen trying to catch my eye, but completely unacceptable if your only point is to keep my attention. Try telling me a little more interesting story other than how you were walking to work today and broke your heal. This happens to everyone, this is not life changing, nor is it interesting and whether I care or don't, I'm going to have the same reaction "really, that sucks."
I just think we need to respect each other's space a little more. Sure when the alcohol is flowing we may slide our asses in our chair and face each other to feel the heat, but that's the release of inhibitions, which we all know isn't a misdemeanor offense in this social law of space. If you're at a red light, don't get within three inches of my bumper, when you're at CVS getting your anal wart cream, I try and stand as far back as possible. I really don't need to know what the customer in front of me needs to cure various maladies. All I need to be able to do is here the word next. Why can't others join me in this quest?
Sometimes I think DMV does it right. Take a ticket and wait your fucking turn. I don't need to have you hear that I'm too inept to fill out the right form or have me justify my incorrect address on my license and then have you sigh as I stand there taking up all of your General Hospital time. Go fuck yourself, I don't need you simulating fucking me in line while I take my eye test. Stand far enough behind me where you're not sure if the top letter is an E. Why the fuck do they have that top line anyway? Is there ever a time you are there and they ask you what that letter is? Never! Get rid of it. Save some ink, you waste monger.
OK, So I'm a little bitter. Maybe because it's been a while since someone I actually wanted close enough to make sweat with was in my life. Or maybe, just possibly, it's because we've come to live in a world where people are so self consumed they don't realize their belt buckle is stuck in your ass crack on the checkout line. Sorry, I don't have my A&P card, because I'm terrified I'm going to go into my back pocket and grab a handful of balls. Please, just charge me the extra 97 cents so I don't have to shake hands with his member?
Stand Back! Please?
No, I'm talking about daily life. It seems to me that this unwritten rule (the 3-foot circle) that applies in all areas of life aside from clubs, rock concerts and public transportation has gone the way of the Dodo. I've noticed more and more that every time I turn around, I'm stepping on someones foot, bumping chests or even worse, the head knock. I was at an ATM the other day and I literally had to move sideways to get around the man that was standing directly behind me. In the deli, I was paying and someone was standing so close I could feel his breath on my neck and trust me, he didn't have a Altoids fetish.
It's summer people! It's 90 degrees and it's been humid as all fuck. Let's all agree to give each other some space. Bar stools are set up a certain distance apart, so that the customer is close to the bar, but there is a certain amount of space between each patron in an effort to give them their own area. Sure, the guy who comes in to the packed bar is going to lean between you and another, but that's part of the contract. We know it's happening, he says excuse me and we're good. Even better if it's lovely brunette with a huge rack that accidentally boob bumps you on the turn away from the bar. But this is brief satisfaction. That same beauty, who you might like to limit the space between with later isn't going to make you to happy if you can feel her 98.6 while talking about the Jersey Shore or some other mundane topic, while you figure out a way to sway her into your man cave for a little game I like to call, "I'm Jamie Gumb, guess who you are?" Never let them see you sweat? It's become impossible to adhere to that old adage in today's in-your-face world.
Listen, unless I know that later that night my meat thermometer is going to be checking the heat in your inner thighs, please don't come into my area. Sure, if things are going well you can tests the waters, but if you are either not interested or interested in someone else I'm with, please step away from the danger area. I just don't see the need to be so close to someone, I'm not going to know somewhat internally. Are we telling secrets? No, we're talking. I'm not grandpa Joe with the anchor tattoo who has to yell so he can tell you how he met your mother in Saigon on a tour, then corrects himself halfway through when he reminds himself that "that" wasn't your mother. I can hear you. I can see you. I don't need to feel you tell me how your day at work was difficult or how your ex-boyfriend (or girlfriend) is ruining your life. It's truly not necessary and doesn't add to the story. Actually it detracts, because all I'm thinking about is how your making my knee sweat and not in a good way.
Unless you're flirting in an effort to gain my attention and affection, you do not need to touch my arm while you're talking. This is completely fine if you're a little vixen trying to catch my eye, but completely unacceptable if your only point is to keep my attention. Try telling me a little more interesting story other than how you were walking to work today and broke your heal. This happens to everyone, this is not life changing, nor is it interesting and whether I care or don't, I'm going to have the same reaction "really, that sucks."
I just think we need to respect each other's space a little more. Sure when the alcohol is flowing we may slide our asses in our chair and face each other to feel the heat, but that's the release of inhibitions, which we all know isn't a misdemeanor offense in this social law of space. If you're at a red light, don't get within three inches of my bumper, when you're at CVS getting your anal wart cream, I try and stand as far back as possible. I really don't need to know what the customer in front of me needs to cure various maladies. All I need to be able to do is here the word next. Why can't others join me in this quest?
Sometimes I think DMV does it right. Take a ticket and wait your fucking turn. I don't need to have you hear that I'm too inept to fill out the right form or have me justify my incorrect address on my license and then have you sigh as I stand there taking up all of your General Hospital time. Go fuck yourself, I don't need you simulating fucking me in line while I take my eye test. Stand far enough behind me where you're not sure if the top letter is an E. Why the fuck do they have that top line anyway? Is there ever a time you are there and they ask you what that letter is? Never! Get rid of it. Save some ink, you waste monger.
OK, So I'm a little bitter. Maybe because it's been a while since someone I actually wanted close enough to make sweat with was in my life. Or maybe, just possibly, it's because we've come to live in a world where people are so self consumed they don't realize their belt buckle is stuck in your ass crack on the checkout line. Sorry, I don't have my A&P card, because I'm terrified I'm going to go into my back pocket and grab a handful of balls. Please, just charge me the extra 97 cents so I don't have to shake hands with his member?
Stand Back! Please?
"Listen, unless I know that later that night my meat thermometer is going to be checking the heat in your inner thighs, please don't come into my area."
ReplyDeletewoah.