If this is you, then I wish upon you a lifetime of endless mosquitoes flying in your ears.

You know when you’re queuing up, and the person behind you starts pushing forward in some bizarre attempt at getting to the front of the line somewhat faster? Like that 2 millimetres would make a whole world of difference in her ultimate goal of reaching the front of the line.

 

Sometimes, it’s just you and this forward-pushing person. Nothing in between. And they are not afraid; nooo….they get real close. So close, that you can feel their breath on you. So close, that you could estimate the size of their nostrils by the amount of exhaled CO2 they were puffing onto you. So close, that without moving your head, you can see the sides of their face and feel the warmth of their bodies against you. So close, that you can smell their most recent meal on their breaths, and the fabric softener brand of their choice.

 

And then, there are those at the supermarket, who push in real tight to you with their shopping cart. You move forward a couple of inches to have some butt-space, but they push forward even more, bumping into your butt every time. If this were target practice, and my butt were the target, then you, lady, would definitely be a high-scorer.

Lady, if I wanted a shopping cart to be pushed into my buttocks, I can assure you, there are plenty of shopping carts outside available for me to repeatedly place my posterior against it. Or did you think you were doing me a favor? Do you think I derive some sort of distorted pleasure in you pushing your groceries towards my butt?? Or do you take pleasure in it? How lovely to know that next week’s chicken has been gently pushed against the butt of an innocent bystander at the checkout.

 

 

Look, no matter what you have to wait. There are three people in front of you. Just wait it out, alright? I get it that you don’t want to be so far that someone might cut into the line (for which I’m sure the 10 people behind us would collectively have something to say about that), but seriously, you don’t have to be grinding up on me. I don’t wish to be feeling you. If I made a list of people I did not wish to feel, let me see…here’s the start of the list:

1.       You

 

I’ve tried giving scornful frowns, to slightly growling, to saying “excuse me, my butt” and a myriad of other attempts at getting these people to understand the concept of personal space. It never works!!!! They just give an annoyed look in return, or the What??? look, or they just look away. Worst still, are those who immediately try to get fellow que-ers on their side by saying things like

“I was just trying to move along the line, you know” and other people will nod in understanding towards these butt-bumpers. Why is it socially acceptable to grind up against a person in the name of making the queue move faster? It’s still the same amount of people!!!! All I ask, is for 3 inches of personal space. If I wanted you up all over me, then I would have asked you out on a date. Did I ask you out on a date? No!!! So get off of my butt!!!!!

 

On one occasion, this lady was getting up real close to me; and this was a non-shopping cart event. Meaning, it was just her face and body ramming into my backside. Lovely. Simply lovely. I tried the initial moving away so I could have something called personal space, but well, she took it as the line moving forward. She keeps pushing into me. I start getting pissed. Really, you could see me start to sizzle. I know the queue is long, but depriving me of 3 inches of personal space will not do you any favors. I try to turn and look at her, but she’s the avoid-eye-contact type. Typical. Eyes glued to the front of the line. All her years has prepared her for this moment where she was going to stand in this line, and she was going to get to the front of it. Never mind that the tickets were already pre-booked and there wasn’t much point in getting to the front five seconds earlier. No. this was what she was born for. She was going for it. At the 7^th contact, I really start to boil. I had a backpack on me, but that didn’t mean it was ok for her to grind up against that. I started swinging left to right. You know, so that it would brush up against her if she was too close. It worked. She backed up a bit. I stopped. She came up in half a millisecond. There she was, grinding up against me once again. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrgh!!!!

 

 

 

You dense, dense, human!!!!!!