If you followed this blog long enough, you know I have very specific behaviors that absolutely bug the fuck out of me. And, even in the instances they don’t make the blog, there’s tonnes more lacking the humorous context to even bring up. And, these are all things I’m sure any reader that encountered any similar situation is probably thinking and either agrees with, kind of agrees with and is too embarrassed to express, or does themselves and is pissed for being called out and therefore lashes back angerly.
I’m not agoraphobic. I thrive off the idea of interactions with people but I just generally don’t like people. If you fall into the I’ll deal with you category (one that would take pages to define) great, if you fall beyond the funnel beyond “tolerate” to “trust” or “love” or whatever that next level naturally becomes great. I thought I was a tough cookie to crack, then, there was my wife…
The wife probably falls into a variant of more like Enochlophobia (or variants of Ochlophobia and Demophobia) in the true diagnosed form of the phobia but she definitely hates dealing with people, especially strangers, more than me and I really don’t like people in most circumstances.
She was on what would be a “normal” commute train home and was crowded into a seating arrangement that wouldn’t usually happen to which she messaged me the following as she got pushed into the corner of a three seater by a crowd that wanted to extend their conversation across the car:
her: Do not crowd me, I will bite
i don’t blme you
you take up more space
you need more room, naturally
her: no shit, tell me about it…
me: but it’s like you’re a planet and attract little sattaliites
her: I might punch a satellite
Knock it out the air
Can you blame her?
It’s like the people who walk up to her and just touch her belly, something that’s infinitely uncomfortable for her (and me, because we don’t know and cannot trust anyone’s intention)