"Don't. Push. Me. 'Cause. I'm. Close. To. The. Edge."

It's extremely rare that I post two blogs in one day, but I just went down to collect a (insert appropriately healthy meal here) from the sandwich van, and as the sandwich lady did that weird thing where she goes to put the change in my hand but doesn't quite tip it into my palm and leaves her fingers there a bit too long for the umpteenth bloody time, it occurred to me:

I'm not very fond of being touched.

It's true! I get a bit nervy when people are too close to me (that's about six inches) and I nearly always jump a bit when someone touches me, unless it's something I anticipate (like a handshake) or initiate. I've just realised how self-concious physical contact makes me. It happens all the time - I usually manage to appear unaffected, but get very, very tense. I have a particular dislike of close talkers and people who hover. I think a distance of about twelve inches is a pretty good talking range, and if you're going to hover, I need at least ten inches of space to feel comfortable while allowing whoever to effectively observe what I do. There's a specific person to whom the hovering applies, and every time they do it, their face about a handspan away, I just have this urge to nut them or give them a slap. People shouldn't be that close unless they're, well, you know.

In a complete switcharound, however, I have no real problem with initiating contact myself. I'll happily offer a hug, or a shoulderpunch or a shove or whatever, just not the other way around. I chalk it up to my ridiculous amount of innate selfishness, but maybe there's more to it. Or maybe I'm reading into it too much, I don't know.

It's not a phobia by any means, I don't quake with fear or anything; I just don't like it.

Anyway, that's enough rambling for today.

Thanks for putting up with me!

Love, Odsox.