Stop Touching Me

I promise that I am a friendly person, but ya'll gotta stop.

So recently, I've noticed that there are a few articles of clothing that a majority of the population cannot resist to touch WHILE THEY ARE ON MY PERSON.

You see, I'm going to explain personal bubbles right now:

Extrovert: Basically a piece of plastic wrap thick.  If you trip while in conversation with this person, you'll probably get to first base.

Normal person: Maybe about a foot, maybe less.  At least in American culture, you feel comfortable that they aren't going to try and feel ya up in conversation.

Introvert: Just give me 10 feet and we can talk through two cans with a string,

Me:  *Person makes eye contact* I begin frantically searching for a place to hide/die alone.

You guys get the point.

I have recently been out in several different social setting wearing different items that some people cannot resist grabbing onto or even taking off of me.

Suspenders, glasses, and bow ties.

The first, people decide to walk up and take a big pull and let the elastic whip back onto my chest.  Apparently when you wear suspenders, you basically tattoo on your forehead, "I WANT TO BE PUBLICLY ABUSED"

I understand that one slightly since, you now, when isn't physical humor funny (Cat falling down?  Baseball in the nuts?  Hicks on any type of motor vehicle?)?  But I'm still grasping the whole glasses thing.  Almost strangers* come up to you, reach their hands around your eyeball zone, and try to pry your spectacles off your face.

My natural reaction:  Some type of Rambo move accompanied by a small seizure.  My expression probably looks along the lines of "I just saw whisper sweet nothings to a mannequin," or "I just saw you lick a desk" or "you're wearing crocs."'

"But I just want to see if they're real or not." Stranger might say.

Now I know that my glasses might not be traditional looking glasses (and I do also own those kind and the same thing happens), but guess what?  THEY'RE ON MY FACE SO I CAN SEE YOU.  And then hide from you.  In my basement.  With some Oreos.  And some milk.  And a slightly open window so I can order chinese food.  Go away.

"Wow, you're really blind."  you say as you clumsily touch my face with your diseased hands, trying to put my glasses back on.  Stop it.

Now wearing a bow tie, people just like to touch it for the sake of touching a bow tie.  I guess there is either some luck in doing so or it's some social faux pas I haven't heard of, but it just happens.  "Oh, look at your cute little bow tie!" *touch touch touch* "Did you tie that yourself?" *touch touch touch*

Guess what you're doing to the small OCD guy inside my head while you do this?  He is breathing heavily into a paper bag while downing some xanax and contemplating the long term side effects of heroin. He tied the tie to sit straight, not be constantly barraged by greasy nubs.  Great, you killed him.  He had a heart attack and died.  LOOK WHAT YOU'VE DONE.  Like I have any idea what to do with this body...you guys are so rude.

Also, what is it with the Ceeds?  I'm walking down the street minding my own business and 50 million (give or take 10 million) people say hello or wave at me while I'm just walking to and from any destination.  These strangers feel the need to acknowledge my presence like we're some kind of neighbor or something.  I grew up in the "big city"**  where acknowledging a stranger on the street gets a knife in your gut.  Or hobo spit in your eye.  Or a drive-by.  Cedar, you're stressing me out, I don't even know how to react to all this friendliness. 

This is basically a plea for all you touchers out there.  Eventually, some of us who can't take the constant bubble invasion are either going to snap or seize and go into some kind of coma.  Do you really want to Million Dollar Baby me? 

All I ask is that you bury me with my rare Pokemon cards.

Now stop touching me.




*An almost stranger is a person that is probably a friend of a friend or somehow in your same social circle.  You may or may not know their name and for some reason they feel comfortable enough to molest your face with their fingers.

*Yes, I'm going to call Salt Lake a big city since it's the largest place in this state.  I know it's not rather large compared to other cities, but it's my big city.  Calm your tits internet.