ArtsAutosBooksBusinessEducationEntertainmentFamilyFashionFoodGamesGenderHealthHolidaysHomeHubPagesPersonal FinancePetsPoliticsReligionSportsTechnologyTravel

Get Out Of My Space Literally

Updated on August 7, 2007

Get Out Of My Space - Literally! Don't Get Me Started!

For those of you that saw the title of this blog and were just sure this was going to be about MySpace, you are wrong. No, this is about all the people who apparently have no sense of my space as compared to their space. You know who they are, they are the people who stand behind you in a bank and cough all over your neck, they are the people who stand so close in line you know what they ate at their last meal whether you want to or not. They are the people who just don't understand the whole idea about each one of us having personal space. And I've had enough of them! Get out of my space (literally) - Don't Get Me Started!

(Read more Scott @ )

I understand that there is some sort of disease that is associated with this phenomenon that some doctors made up right after they invented Attention Deficit Disorder and before they invented Restless Leg Syndrome. (No, I'm not a Christian Scientist but some of these new diseases you just have to wonder about, don't you?) I would like to be a therapist for these people and help them get over their inability to respect other people's space. The therapy would begin with them right next to me and I would pinch them really hard, see I'm associating being close to me with pain (very therapeutic and yes, something people I've dated have said at one time or another). Next they would need to stand about four inches from me (see small steps are the way to go) now when they walk up and stand this close, I would smack them on the forehead with the palm of my hand, this would teach them that while they were no longer being pinched that they were still too close and what were they idiots to not know they were still in my space. We would continue on like this until eventually there would be about ten feet of space between me and anyone. I would be walking around in my invisible force field and they would finally get that if you're too close, that you're in smacking distance. Thus, smack therapy was born.

There was a guy behind me in the bank the other day who obviously needed smack therapy. He was so close that he would actually bump into me in his oblivion to anyone else but himself. Perhaps it was in an effort to make himself believe that the line was moving forward but it was still as annoying as hell. His friend was not in the line but they were conversing in Spanish while Miguel was in the line and Jose was out of the line. As the only other languages I speak other than English are a little bit of Hebrew and a little bit of Yiddish, I had no idea what they were saying but they seemed to be enjoying themselves as every once in a while they would laugh (and as we all know, laughter is a universal language). Just writing this it suddenly dawns on me that perhaps Miguel didn't really have too-close-itis but that he was bumping into me on purpose so that he and Jose could have a laugh at my expense. (Now I'm even more outraged but what to do since I have no idea where they live and if I did could you really see me going over there and beating them up?) Finally I had to turn around and really let him have it with a look. This is a look I have spent years perfecting, it's what I call, "Shocked and Appalled" - it includes one eyebrow up, the mouth slightly open and a look of general disbelief and disgust.

Next up was an office supply place. Now I have two vices, luggage and office supplies. I can't walk out of either store without the, "I wants, I needs, I gots to have it" disease. At any rate, I'm standing in the line to pay when behind me comes flannel shirt guy. He practically bumps into me as he gets to the counter and has no clue that anyone else exists in the world. As the woman in front of me is paying for her things, he is behind me doing the classic, "sigh...blow out of air...sigh...<guttural noise that is unintelligible>". Now it wasn't taking long at all but here he was, blowing on my neck with his bad beat box technique (yes, my neck, not my ear, which I never understood why it would be perceived as something sexy but alas, that is a blog for another day). At this point he even began the whole tapping his items on the counter behind me. And although a lot of you are thinking, "Wow, a flannel shirt guy blowing down your neck and tapping on the counter, hello, that's hot." I'm telling you it was far from.

You can say that these people just have a lot on their minds or that they aren't thinking at all but I want them to start thinking. I want them to back up at least a few yards and understand that bumping into me from behind will not make the line move faster or get you a date (well, not always). And if you have a disease then get it treated before you go out in public again because there are those of us who have frankly had enough of your lack of understanding that along with ballroom dancing (please see Dirty Dancing - the good one, the first one, not the Havana one that was made for apparently no reason that I can possibly understand) and life, there is your space and my space and as far as mine goes, get out of my space (literally) - Don't Get Me Started!



    0 of 8192 characters used
    Post Comment

    • profile image

      izabelle 7 years ago

      yes i totally agree