The personal bubble
THE personal bubble isn't as sacred as it use to be.
Now, I'm not one to bag out humans in my blogs because….ahhh…..well they're people too…? (my jokes don't get better with time…).
The reason I don't pay out on people is because it is too much of a small world.
I'm not (that) arrogant to think a great deal of people read my blogs and on this occasion this person might read it. Actually, I can be quite realistic about my reader numbers. The backend blogging stats speak for themselves.
So yes, I will bag out someone, but shall do it anonymously.
This incident occurred Saturday night.
When I go out on the town my goal is to have some fun with mates, enjoy a few beverages, and try and prove unsuccessfully that I'm a really good dancer…if I meet a suave gentlemen…well, that's just a bonus.
Truth be told, the latter doesn't happen very often and it certainly didn't happen on Saturday night.
I was sitting minding my own business with my friend, Jess, resting our feet from some strenuous dancing, and I noticed someone who looked really familiar standing by the bar.
I did a 'cartoon-like' double take.
It was definitely the second take which made me realise I did know this chap from about nine years ago when I didn't know any better.
Remembering it hadn't ended well, I chose to be a bit rude and ignore him until. . .
(Notice the spacing in the dot.dot.dot. That was for dramatic effect).
"Heyyyyyyyyyyyy!" he said.
"Ah, hey! How's it going…I ugh…didn't see you there!" I said.
An awkward conversation ensued amplified by the extra awkwardness because this guy was being 'handsy'.
"Can I say something?" he asked. The vain part of me was thinking, hmmmm, maybe he's going to say, "You look really hot!"
Nope. Instead he said, "You look extremely….awkward."
Thanks…well you're still a prick.
Jess was standing about a metre from me at the bar, and was getting increasingly farther and farther away because this guy had stood between us and I was trying to get farther and farther away from him.
Fortunately, she got the metaphoric smoke signals I released, however, it was about the same time this guy realised I was trying to get Jess to rescue me.
He decided he'd go talk to her, perhaps to see if she'd put in a good word for him, and decided to get all handsy with her too.
Jess wouldn't have a bar of it.
"Ugh…you're invading my personal bubble!" she said politely but firmly. Because he didn't compute this comment, she went on to explain what a personal bubble was and how he should be more respectful.
He came back to me and said Jess was weird for being such a prude, despite the fact that he, as a stranger, had preceded to get in her face and put his hands around her waste after she asked him not to.
Actually, their little conversation ended with her putting the cocktail menu between them and saying, "Get the f*** out of my bubble or there will be consequences!"
Reasonable.
Jess and I snuck away from the situation and went for a dance to where the sleaze bags seemed to be out in force.
While we were busting a move (non-saucy moves I might add) to Ice Ice Baby, guys started hovering around some of us. It was kind of like Hamish & Andy's ghosting.
My mate Georgia and her sister had the perfect solution. I don't know whether it was a tried and tested method, but it was brilliant!
If a guy was being a sleaze bag, Georgia would push him into the middle of our little group. We'd then join hands and do a 'ring-a-ring-a-rosie' around him, making him feel really self conscious and he'd walk away. It was like magic - 100 percent success rate.
The night got on and suddenly, the "nothing good happens after 2am" saying my wise mate Jen says started to ring true.
Actually, one good thing happens after 2am. They always play one of my favourite songs, the Black Eyed Peas' I Gotta Feeling about 2.15am. Ironic really, when the night is well and truly over.
We were dancing in a different spot for our "last two songs before home time…oh no, one more song, no one more song!" when suddenly I saw the guy I'd known years ago.
"JESS," I stage whispered. "Let's go to the front, NOW!"
"He's not here," she said as she looked to her right, forgetting she could look left too.
Finally she did look left but it was too late, he'd spotted us.
"Run!" she said.
And I took off like I was the successful runner in Cool Runnings whose, despite making it to the summer Olympics, journey we don't follow.
Jess was behind me and grabbed my arm. I stopped: "Yeah?"
Turned out it wasn't Jess' arm grabbing my wrist. It was the guy's. Jess was nowhere to be seen.
"AHH…I mean…HAhhhlo (yep might have stolen that from The Simpsons)."
That's pretty much how it went down, except this guy wanted to ask me why a "bunch of my friends" told him I didn't want to speak to him.
I wonder how many people quantify a 'bunch', there was definitely no more than two of my friends telling him to leave me alone. Thanks guys.
Anyway, I politely said I didn't want to speak with him because I wanted to spend time with my friends, and my friends and I shimmied away and continued to dance, all the while anticipating I Gotta Feeling which I knew would play without fail.
So the moral of this story is: Don't invade personal bubbles, don't be a rude bastard and if you're going to try Ghosting, do it well and I won't know to bitch about it.
The end.
Now, I'm not one to bag out humans in my blogs because….ahhh…..well they're people too…? (my jokes don't get better with time…).
The reason I don't pay out on people is because it is too much of a small world.
I'm not (that) arrogant to think a great deal of people read my blogs and on this occasion this person might read it. Actually, I can be quite realistic about my reader numbers. The backend blogging stats speak for themselves.
So yes, I will bag out someone, but shall do it anonymously.
This incident occurred Saturday night.
When I go out on the town my goal is to have some fun with mates, enjoy a few beverages, and try and prove unsuccessfully that I'm a really good dancer…if I meet a suave gentlemen…well, that's just a bonus.
Truth be told, the latter doesn't happen very often and it certainly didn't happen on Saturday night.
I was sitting minding my own business with my friend, Jess, resting our feet from some strenuous dancing, and I noticed someone who looked really familiar standing by the bar.
I did a 'cartoon-like' double take.
It was definitely the second take which made me realise I did know this chap from about nine years ago when I didn't know any better.
Remembering it hadn't ended well, I chose to be a bit rude and ignore him until. . .
(Notice the spacing in the dot.dot.dot. That was for dramatic effect).
"Heyyyyyyyyyyyy!" he said.
"Ah, hey! How's it going…I ugh…didn't see you there!" I said.
An awkward conversation ensued amplified by the extra awkwardness because this guy was being 'handsy'.
"Can I say something?" he asked. The vain part of me was thinking, hmmmm, maybe he's going to say, "You look really hot!"
Nope. Instead he said, "You look extremely….awkward."
Thanks…well you're still a prick.
Jess was standing about a metre from me at the bar, and was getting increasingly farther and farther away because this guy had stood between us and I was trying to get farther and farther away from him.
Fortunately, she got the metaphoric smoke signals I released, however, it was about the same time this guy realised I was trying to get Jess to rescue me.
He decided he'd go talk to her, perhaps to see if she'd put in a good word for him, and decided to get all handsy with her too.
Jess wouldn't have a bar of it.
"Ugh…you're invading my personal bubble!" she said politely but firmly. Because he didn't compute this comment, she went on to explain what a personal bubble was and how he should be more respectful.
He came back to me and said Jess was weird for being such a prude, despite the fact that he, as a stranger, had preceded to get in her face and put his hands around her waste after she asked him not to.
Actually, their little conversation ended with her putting the cocktail menu between them and saying, "Get the f*** out of my bubble or there will be consequences!"
Reasonable.
Jess and I snuck away from the situation and went for a dance to where the sleaze bags seemed to be out in force.
While we were busting a move (non-saucy moves I might add) to Ice Ice Baby, guys started hovering around some of us. It was kind of like Hamish & Andy's ghosting.
My mate Georgia and her sister had the perfect solution. I don't know whether it was a tried and tested method, but it was brilliant!
If a guy was being a sleaze bag, Georgia would push him into the middle of our little group. We'd then join hands and do a 'ring-a-ring-a-rosie' around him, making him feel really self conscious and he'd walk away. It was like magic - 100 percent success rate.
The night got on and suddenly, the "nothing good happens after 2am" saying my wise mate Jen says started to ring true.
Actually, one good thing happens after 2am. They always play one of my favourite songs, the Black Eyed Peas' I Gotta Feeling about 2.15am. Ironic really, when the night is well and truly over.
We were dancing in a different spot for our "last two songs before home time…oh no, one more song, no one more song!" when suddenly I saw the guy I'd known years ago.
"JESS," I stage whispered. "Let's go to the front, NOW!"
"He's not here," she said as she looked to her right, forgetting she could look left too.
Finally she did look left but it was too late, he'd spotted us.
"Run!" she said.
And I took off like I was the successful runner in Cool Runnings whose, despite making it to the summer Olympics, journey we don't follow.
Jess was behind me and grabbed my arm. I stopped: "Yeah?"
Turned out it wasn't Jess' arm grabbing my wrist. It was the guy's. Jess was nowhere to be seen.
"AHH…I mean…HAhhhlo (yep might have stolen that from The Simpsons)."
That's pretty much how it went down, except this guy wanted to ask me why a "bunch of my friends" told him I didn't want to speak to him.
I wonder how many people quantify a 'bunch', there was definitely no more than two of my friends telling him to leave me alone. Thanks guys.
Anyway, I politely said I didn't want to speak with him because I wanted to spend time with my friends, and my friends and I shimmied away and continued to dance, all the while anticipating I Gotta Feeling which I knew would play without fail.
So the moral of this story is: Don't invade personal bubbles, don't be a rude bastard and if you're going to try Ghosting, do it well and I won't know to bitch about it.
The end.
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