The Toucher = Mockable

I was sitting at a meeting a couple of days ago and a man in a bad sweater came up behind my chair and hollered, “Hey buddy!  How the heck have you been?”  To this I responded (in my head), “OH MY GOD GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF ME!”  See, I failed to mention that while he was calling me his “buddy”, he was aggressively massaging my back and shoulders while smelling like some sort of  bad aftershave.  In fact, the guy was rubbing a little lower than the average “toucher.”  After he had completed his molestation he patted me on the shoulders a couple of times as if to say, “The money’s on the dresser.  Go ahead and let yourself out.”  All of this was after we had already shaken hands and exchanged verbal pleasantries at the start of the meeting.  Of course, even when shaking my hand the guy smiled at me like a piece of meat and used his non-shaking hand to grip my elbow and pull me closer to him.  I thought he was going to ask me to dance. Why in the hell do you people think that this is acceptable?

I know you’re not gay and uncontrollably attracted to me because you fucking touch everybody that gets within arm’s length.  It’s as though you’re Lennie Small from Of Mice and Men and everybody’s a rabbit.  In fact, just this one time I am going to completely avoid the latent gay references, because I don’t know any gay dudes that think it’s necessary to rub down unsuspecting people who are merely trying to get the day over with and make it one step closer to sweet, sweet death. No, you’re not gay.  You just seem to really enjoy the look and feel of another man…homo.

Let me guess: You’re “naturally affectionate?”  Yeah well, I naturally like boobs but I don’t get to walk around rubbing them uninvited.  In fact, according to my wife, I’m not supposed to touch any boobs AT ALL! The thing that really irks me is that you’re a pretty powerful guy, so it’s not like I can slap you or anything.  Now that I think about it, I’d like to know how you got to such a powerful position in life. You answer to a board of six people.  I’d think one of them would be willing to do something about all these involuntary rubdowns.  Maybe that’s how you got the job, maybe they like a good rubdown while hearing you spout nondescript, universally applicable compliments.

For the most part, I just have to shudder in disgust with the knowledge that  every time I see you coming, I’m going to have to give it up.  Now that I think about it, I feel kind of whorish and dirty. Huh, a little self-reflection and I realize that you’ve robbed me of my pride and dignity by forcing your way into my personal space.  I think I may know how to get closure though.  If every time you tried to have your way with a business colleague  they  blew a rape whistle and blasted you in the face with pepper spray, I’d have to assume that after 40 or 50 times, you’d take the hint that people do not appreciate your fucking forced shiatsu.