I have recently deduced that I don’t really like to be touched. I haven’t always acknowledged that, but I’m doing so now. Not because people are running around trying to touch me (get any and all minds out of the gutter immediately if that sent you there for some reason), but because it came to mind today as I was making my way-too-early-in-the-frakking-morning trek to work.
Oddly enough, I do consider myself a hugger. Or at least, I don’t mind hugging people. I hug friends I haven’t seen in a long time when we get together. I reciprocate hugs when given to me and, as far as I know, I don’t try to dodge hugs. Although on a couple of occasions I have had people come to my house for a party and walk in and hug me and mentally scratched my head thinking, “Oh, are we ‘hugging friends’ now?” But less its Death coming to get me in a grip, I’m pretty ok with hugging. I especially appreciate hugging my nieces who gives the best hugs ever! They are the coolest people I know.
But, well, I don’t really like to be touched.
Maybe it’s because it doesn’t make much sense to me when someone walks up and talks to you and feels the need to reach out and touch you on the hand or the arm. Especially when it is someone I don’t know very well or in a context, like a work situation, that really makes no sense to be making that contact.
I’m also big on personal space. I always think of the scene in Dirty Dancing where Patrick Swayze is telling Jennifer Grey to stay in her dance space. I just want people to stay in their personal space and not get into mind. Unless it’s David Bryan. Or Michael Buble. They can totally get into my personal space any time they want to.
I don’t ever like to have my chair pulled up too close to someone else’s. I want a little breathing room. I also don’t like sharing an arm rest with another person. Exceptions being, of course, David Bryan, Michael Buble and a few other assorted names that readily come to mind. But mostly I figure if there is space to be had, then why not spread out a little more and make good use of it.
This need for space also extends to keeping at least one stall between me and someone else in the restroom and at least a full arm length away from anyone you are engaging in casual conversation.
So, yeah, I don’t really like to be touched. I know. I’m a freak. But I’m ok with that. So long as you aren’t touching me when you call me one.
Oddly enough, I do consider myself a hugger. Or at least, I don’t mind hugging people. I hug friends I haven’t seen in a long time when we get together. I reciprocate hugs when given to me and, as far as I know, I don’t try to dodge hugs. Although on a couple of occasions I have had people come to my house for a party and walk in and hug me and mentally scratched my head thinking, “Oh, are we ‘hugging friends’ now?” But less its Death coming to get me in a grip, I’m pretty ok with hugging. I especially appreciate hugging my nieces who gives the best hugs ever! They are the coolest people I know.
But, well, I don’t really like to be touched.
Maybe it’s because it doesn’t make much sense to me when someone walks up and talks to you and feels the need to reach out and touch you on the hand or the arm. Especially when it is someone I don’t know very well or in a context, like a work situation, that really makes no sense to be making that contact.
I’m also big on personal space. I always think of the scene in Dirty Dancing where Patrick Swayze is telling Jennifer Grey to stay in her dance space. I just want people to stay in their personal space and not get into mind. Unless it’s David Bryan. Or Michael Buble. They can totally get into my personal space any time they want to.
I don’t ever like to have my chair pulled up too close to someone else’s. I want a little breathing room. I also don’t like sharing an arm rest with another person. Exceptions being, of course, David Bryan, Michael Buble and a few other assorted names that readily come to mind. But mostly I figure if there is space to be had, then why not spread out a little more and make good use of it.
This need for space also extends to keeping at least one stall between me and someone else in the restroom and at least a full arm length away from anyone you are engaging in casual conversation.
So, yeah, I don’t really like to be touched. I know. I’m a freak. But I’m ok with that. So long as you aren’t touching me when you call me one.
6 comments:
I'm the same way, and I don't understand those that aren't like this! It's so awkward and I also can't stand when someone is a "close talker." (remember that Seinfeld episode? haha)
Thanks for your sweet words on my blog!!!
I hear ya! I will never initiate a hug, but I'll never turn one away. I'm a leaner. That's as physical as I'll get. I do hug and kiss Laura a lot, but she's a kid - though honestly, she's super independent and not very touchy either. :)
It's always good to know that I'm not the only one in this mess. LOL I have always felt that touching someone, even somewhat casually like touching their arm or shoulder, holds more meaning to it than a simple touch. A handshake is a simple touch. If you are talking to me and touching my hair or putting a hand on my shoulder, then I am going to read more into that. I had a prof in grad school who was a close talker!! Made me nuts.
April - I think of you and Gretchen when hugging comes up since neither of you are huggers. Notice I never attempted to hug you when we met in DC? LOL I think in the appropriate circumstances and with the appropriate person/people then that is one thing. But the random stuff is always strange to me. But with kids it's like a while different thing. My nieces are teens/tweens now, but they still at least give hugs.
((nodding while reading))
I do a Patrick Swayze-esque thing with my kids - showing them what space is theirs!
Totally laughing in a good way about the bathroom!
I have to confess that I think I'm a toucher...for example, co-workers I work closely with will get the arm or shoulder touch occassionally. I'm not really a hugger, but I'm not opposed either. I guess I'm like April...I won't initiate, but I don't turn them away. All of that said, WHO touches someone's hair? REALLY? Although, Shannon, I think your hair is kind of like a baby bump---it's just so tempting and for some reason people think it's ok to touch. Still, just like the ladies with the baby bumps....you should deck anyone who does it.
Actually, because I'm me, I can count on one hand how many people touched my belly when pregnant. My mom, sister, mother-in-law, husband and Susan Elizabeth Phillips. They all asked beforehand, too.
It's funny, Shannon, because Gretchen and I hugged when we met. I stood on a couch to do so which is how I remember.
If someone touches my hair, I'll flinch. I don't know why. It's just like why is your hand coming at me and no one can touch my neck. EVER.
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