So, yeah, I might have this tiny thing about complete strangers touching me. I can deal with tight spaces & crowded bars & general “we have to touch to get past each other” situations. I can deal with it when I have warning that touch is imminent. I’m a hugger with my close friends. But when I’m sitting in my comfortable personal space & there is plenty of room around me, I might do a small freak- out when touched by strangers. I have, um, stories.
Once I tried unsuccessfully to light a guy on fire. It was one of those nights where you’ve been on kind of a tear all day – not trashed, but a light, steady pickling of the liver from low point beer. Then you forget to eat dinner & the next thing you know it is way after your bedtime & a really good band starts playing. One of those nights.
We were still in our barstools from happy hour & this guy starts leaning heavily on me. I didn’t really know what to do, so I put a match out on his face. He didn’t even notice. After a few more, I tried a different tact & tried to light his shirt on fire, but it was cotton & wouldn’t flame. My husband noticed & told me I needed an accelerant like everclear. Always helpful!
Then he asked why I wanted to set this fellow on fire & I told him & he suggested changing seats instead. When the fellow leaned on him my husband jabbed him in the ribs with his elbow & the fellow said, “What are you doing sitting there, that’s MY seat!” The bar owners ran out of the office, grab us & pull us back into the office & kick the fellow out of the bar. They had been watching & laughing at the security monitor the whole time. Bastards.
Another time, which my husband witnessed, but we weren’t dating yet, was in college & I was standing at the end of the bar & some guy grabbed my ass & ran upstairs. I figured he would have to come down again, so I got ready to hit him as hard as I could with my elbow if he touched me again. Sure enough, down he came, grabbed my ass, & I swung my elbow back as hard as I could & smacked him right in the solar plexus & then ran upstairs.
Funny thing was that my future husband (we were friends) walked in from the deck right as the guy came down the stairs & grabbed my ass. He saw the whole thing. From his spot, he watched me hit the guy & he said that the guy folded in half a few feet in the air, flew through the air & landed right on a table full of bikers. Not nowadays doctor & lawyer bikers, but early 1980s bikers. The real smelly deal.
The bikers had seen the first time the guy grabbed my ass, so they thought the whole thing was pretty funny. They were through with their beer & ready to leave, but when this guy flew through the air & landed on their table upsetting their empty pitchers & glasses they totally made him their bitch. They made him buy them all new beer & generally gave him a hard time. Awesome. I have a million of these stories.
This weekend I was out with my husband & some friends at a bar we have been to a lot recently, partying with one of the bartenders. This hipster biker taps me on one shoulder & then walked the other way like a friend will do for a joke. When I looked, he grinned. I mean, not a bad pickup move I guess, if you are doing it to someone receptive to that sort of thing. But I’m there very obviously with my husband.
Sometimes it sounds stupid, like this weekend’s “he tapped me on the shoulder & I got all butthurt” but really, why did he touch me at all? Why does a complete stranger feel it is necessary to tap me on the shoulder unless I dropped something or was in his way? And the biggest question of all: why me? I’m old (I’m still pretty hot for an old chick, though). There were other girls there that were of childbearing years, for craps sake. Go pick on them; I should be exempt from this sort of thing by now.