Sunday, July 8, 2012
Today at church I was sitting next to my friend. Minding my own business. He was also minding his own business, enjoying the talk (or trying to stay awake, I can't be sure) when out of nowhere, the guy in the row behind us leans forward, and reaches his hand out toward my buddies neck. I think, is this a serial killer about to choke him at church? Is he going to hit him? Did he just plant a bomb on his neck? He ended up adjusting his collar. After the strike, my buddy turns around and nods. I sit there and wonder if this is a good friend of my friend. Does he know him at all? What did that guy do to my buddies neck? I didn't want to ask right then because the potential serial killer behind us might have overheard and triggered the potential bomb just planted. After the meeting, the guy says "sorry about that, I was just fixing your tie, it was poking out of your collar." Phew. That was a close one.
Then the wheels in my mind started to turn, as they do on occasion, and I thought, "why the heck would that guy feel he was the designated collar fixer?" I mean, he wasn't older than my buddy, and I confirmed that he didn't know my friend at all. It didn't make sense. When you are little, sure, your dad or older brother, or that crazy old guy in your ward can totally fix your collar. You know them, and they are older, wiser, etc. But a complete stranger? For me, that doesn't fly. If you know me, you know that I'm totally cool with physical contact. But I do not, I repeat, DO NOT like physical contact from strangers or unfamiliar acquaintances. I have a bubble, and unless I've given you level 5 clearance, don't touch me. If my collar is messed up, maybe I planned that. Probably not, but I didn't ask you to fix it.