I was inspired by mental_floss (and my own boredom and inability to spend time productively) to browse some groups on Facebook.
For example: number of people in 1,000,000 strong for Giuliani? 107
Number of people in 1,000,000 strong for Doug Funnie? 130.
But more inspiring, perhaps, was my joining a group titled something like “Get the f*** out of my personal bubble before I punch you in the face!” I’ve joined other groups before that illustrate my personality, groups like ‘Morrissey is God’, ‘F*** Maggie Thatcher’, ‘Down with this sort of thing: Fans of Father Ted’, ‘Not my daughter, you B****!’, and ‘Trees’, but this one really fits me to a ‘T’. I visibly grimace when family tries to hug me, and howl in pain when most try to massage me, especially when I don’t know you all that well.
I think this example of personal space best shows my fondness for my own: I recently dated this boy for a while (let’s call him EN). I was set up with him by his roommate, who happens to be one of my best friends. Granted, EN was not attractive, had no charm, no ambition, no education, and no sense of humor, but he was nice. And I was only home for two months, so I thought, well, why not?
On the first night, at the end of the date, which went pretty well, there was the usual end-of-the-date confusion which I made infinitely worse by responding to his hug attempt by giving a pitiful wave and diving into my car to drive away.
On the second night we went out, we double dated with my best friend and her boyfriend. Now my best friend and I have a very physical relationship–in fact, I’ve gone further with her than most boys I’ve gone on a date with (i.e. hugging and cuddling). And we tend to do this frequently. So when, during bowling, I got a strike (I was on the sixth frame and had a score of about 21), she squealed and enthusiastically hugged me. About two turns later, I once again hit down some pins (I was aiming low in bowling-pun intended). EN, who I was on a date with, extended his arms, in a hug like-formation, which I responded to with a high-ten.
At the end of this, EN (unsurprisingly) ditched me on New Year’s Eve.
Another example: I was working a seasonal job at Order’s, a bookstore. I had just finished helping this lady when I asked if there was anything else I could do for her. She, in response, gets about 5 inches from my face and says, “You know, you have really pretty skin.” Why yes, I do in fact know…I’m one of the lucky ones who never have suffered any acne and have really white skin, so I look like a freaky doll. Does that mean you have to stand five inches from me (when I don’t know you) and continue standing there studying my skin? No.
Moral of this story: stay the f*** out of people’s personal bubbles.
