NTKOG #25: The kind of girl who, in an apparent desire to conserve body heat or show off her killer pheramones, stands really close to other people in public places. Like, will-show-up-in-your-dang-X-rays close.
I am: fiercely protective of my personal space. What? Couches were totally designed for an occupancy of one!
I am not: super into communing with strangers on any sort of physical or near-physical basis, as I learned with my failed experiment in hugging.
The Scene: Today, a treat: a medley of standing-too-close-ness, prepared three ways. If you choose to imagine this as a movie-style montage, may I recommend The Police’s “Don’t Stand So Close to Me” for background music?
What? I just like to be able to watch your uvula dangle as we're talking.
First: Waiting at my T stop on the way to work, I approach the median, which is littered with commuters in their iPod and Starbucks bubbles, each the last survivor of their own personal nuclear holocaust. Or at least you’d think, given the grim devotion with which they avoid acknowledging each other. I scan my victims and choose to stand behind a quite pretty Indian girl wearing a silky orange blouse — one of the few brave survivors sans earbuds. I am so close I can tell you her brand of shampoo (Garnier) and that she might want to consider switching to moisturizing.
For a few moments she stands still — in no small part, I’m sure, because the slightest swivel in either direction would cause her bag to make contact with my person. Then a quick glance back at me. She takes a long pace forward, and I sway slightly in her new direction. She glances back again and takes a book out of her bag, managing, while she does so, to angle herself further away. I take the hint and fall back a few strides into my own morning-fake-apocalypse bubble.
Second: After work and a quick jaunt at the fabric store (where I ended up buying a silky orange fabric for my drapes — subliminal imprinting?), I waited to board a bus to Harvard Square. When I got on, the bus was filled to less than a quarter capacity, with several rows of empty seats. I plumped myself down next to the only other person in the back right of the bus. She casts curious sidelong glances at me while, stop by stop, the bus empties down to just her, me, and one other guy.
Finally she broadly pantomimes that she needs to leave, so I let her out into the aisle, where she stands for the next six stops. We end up exiting the bus at the same place, her rushing a bit ahead.
Third: Once at Harvard Square, I am about half an hour early for the class I am taking, so I look for a place to rest my weary, persona-space-allergic bones. On the shallow white steps of some puritan building or another, a couple sits alone, having a spirited conversation. Casually casting my eyes away, I settle myself one small step below them, only inches away from the man.
Unfortunately, it becomes quickly apparently that their conversation was of a private nature. He is a professor, it seems, and she is explaining in great detail the nature of family emergency that has prevented her from completing her work. As soon as I sit, she sputters out a few words in clunky, impeded phrases, then informs him that she has to run to another class, but they can finish their discussion later.
The man, however, appears unbothered, and remains seated for the next twenty minutes, while he and I both read. Not together, but kind of together, in an oh-the-enormity-of-humanity no personal space kind of way. It’s nice, a little bit, to pretend we are friends sharing a comfortable silence.
The Verdict: Good lord. This was awkward, but not as awkward as I’d imagined it would be. It turns out that accidentally lingering too close to another living person does not, contrary to popular belief, induce spontaneous respiratory shut-down in 100% of cases. In fact, people were, though weirded out, rather nice about it. Not even one snarled “Dude!” or overtly hostile grimace. Just lots of passive-aggressive pantomime — the same types that I perform on a regular basis in these situations.
It kind of makes me wonder whether other guardians of personal space go around, like me, wondering why everyone else seems so much more comfortable being physically close to strangers, and whether it is in some way cold and a bit inhuman to recoil from casual contact. And, I mean, I would ask people about it. But I don’t want to get that close.
{ 11 comments… read them below or add one }
Interesting experiment. I’d consider giving it a try, but I also feel uncomfortable getting too close. On a related side-note, have you ever had that awkward closeness when you are trying to be friends with an ex, so you are hanging out, perhaps having a conversation/lunch, but you don’t know where to look or what to do with your hands (or your lips)? Uber dilemma… that transition can never be comfortable.
The one on the bus sounds super awkward to me. But I guess you don’t look like a crazy person. As a woman, I would be wayyyy more freaked out if a man did that to me as opposed to a young woman.
I’m male, but I agree with Dara. I’d be waay more bothered by a man doing that to me than by a cute, personable 20something girl doing it.
I’m with Dara on this one too. The one on the bus would be the worst to me. I don’t even like it when at the gym, there are a bunch of machines open and someone chooses the one right next to mine. I adore your blog. You are doing things I would never have the courage to do.
What intrigues me most is that these people made no overt effort to move away from you, even the professor and student. I did this unconsciously once in my early 20’s, as I stood behind a beautiful woman who smelled so fresh and clean in a crowd of hundreds.
And yes, I think I scared her a bit.
I want to tell everyone about personal space. How are there people who didn’t get the memo?
BACK OFF CLOSE TALKER.
*applauds the choice of soundtrack and photo*
And you’ll appreciate this, babe: the close-talker in the photo is none other than foul-mouthed former US prez LBJ. Remember that NPR piece about the banal pre-Nixon oval office recordings, where LBJ was talking to his tailor and went on and on about his “bunghole”?
All class, that one!
I’m also big on personal space. It’s sometimes entertaining to get a sneak peak into people’s lives when they decide to sit with you, even though they’re not with you. Other times, though, you just want to tell them to go somewhere else!
In this case, “dude”, you would have been my absolute worst nightmare!!! I am sooo possessive over my personal space!
oh, I’m right with you on that one! If I recounted some of the ridiculous extremes I’ve gone to in order to avoid standing too close to strangers in public, you’d think I was insane beyond like human recognition!