A funny thing happened at the end of Sunday Night

So ok we’re all sitting around the table in her back yard. Everyone with their drinks, bringing the uneaten desserts back incase anyone wants any. Some friggin’ amazing conversations, I tell ya, no sarcasm, and some silly – but good-silly ones, too, you know? Until we all saw a frog. I didn’t care. Frog’s a frog, right? ‘TIl it hopped from the corner over there to under-the-table when all the girls screamed and I got scared-more- from the screaming and/or maybe the frog’s crawling up my leg. I don’t mind creatures – but mind when they’re crawling on me. But it wasn’t a creature, it was a human hand wrapping around myankle – someone playing a trick on me, eyyy? With all the shreiking, commotion, possible creature-crawling-up-my-leg, I kicked away and said, “Don’t touch me!” The shrieking replaced by laughs. “Did you just say, ‘Don’t touch me?'”

Yeah. Yes I did. In an embarrassing, angry-Miranda-from-Mrs.-Doubtfire way. And I never understood why women were written to say stuff like that in movies – never made sense. Sounds like a kindergarten thing to say. But it was the first thing I could think of short of, “OH MY GOD! SOMETHING’S ON MY ANKLE AND THEY’RE SCREAMING LOUDER THAN THEY NEED TO AND THIS IS NO TIME TO TEST MY PATIENCE!” I wish movies would have agitated women say stuff like that instead of the “Don’t Touch Me” riff. I was embarrassed and in my mind, I’ve become the prissy, high-heeled eye-batty woman with her purse on her lap. So, Yes I said it. First time, too. But got me thinkign – how much I hate being touched and not the hand-around-ankle touch. That’s ok, fine. It’s the badtiming of it all that makes me cringe. And, Don’t Touch Me is funny.

What I absolutely can’t stomach and it happened a lot the other day is the close-talky-touch. Even if it’s someone you like (a lot). Not romantic, just normal. But that… close, talky, close, slow moving, getting closer ughh… (I can’t even speak I’m so ughhh) that close sideways hug or slow spooning, but-still-standing (usual female-female) and ALWAYS done to me while I’m thinking hard about something important and/or extremely agitated when thisssss close talky touchy spoony woman (who loves me, who I love back) does thissss cradly thing where I feel her face on my face and her breath on my neck and face and neck and OH MY GODDDDD. I WILL get violent. Or do that snappy-shimmy thing where I reclaim some of my distance and dignity, smiling, smiling of course. A closed-mouth smile. Or pretend it’s ’cause I’m ticklish and must move before I have a tickle attack that I’ll have to make up on the spot because I don’t really know what a tickle attack is.

Do NOT do the gently touchy thing with me for the love of GOD. Depends on who you are and timing. Oh my GOD, you know what? It’s timing. That’s what it is. It’s not human contact I hate, it’s bad judgment. Use your brain, cause you don’t have to be a surgeon to know that if a person’s deep in tought, the ONE thing that will bring him/her back to reality (*AND* in happy spirits) is NOT your slow, I-can-feel-your-breath contact party. Teach this in schools! Teach this in all schools! Teach it to girls who think they’re helping their friends or rescuing them from tears or sadness orr… You know what I do when I see someone upset? I let them get it out. Cry. Express. Only if i want to turture their souls will I do the gentle-hug thing on them.

Fantasy:
“Hey. Yo.”
“Hey… I, uh, Yo.”
“You OK?”
“Yep.”
(The part where you don’t hug.)
“Want a soda?”
“Yep.”
“Awesome, stay right there.”
“Haha ok.”

OMIGOD, was that painless or what!

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