I’m not that comfortable being touched by anyone other than dudes I’m dating. I’m so weird, every time I get my pulse taken at the doctor’s, it’s always racing and they always talk about it. Well, that’s just because I’m nervous because a stranger is touching me!
Anyway, I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone to back off, I just endure it if necessary. It’s never really been a big issue because the only extremely touchy-feely people I’ve come across weren’t people I had to interact with often. Except one perv of a boss I had, but he wasn’t doing it innocently, he was mildly sexually harassing me. I didn’t say anything to him either but that’s because I was only 18.
See, you assume that what I’m missing is the warm feeling, the happy glow, the friendliness you feel when you’re touched.
What I’m actually missing, when you don’t touch me, is the feeling of fear, invasion, and perhaps attempted intimidation I feel when I am touched in ways I don’t feel comfortable.
Being touched by family/close friends does make me feel happy/safe/comfortable so that’s what makes it desirable. Strangers, however, do not generate those feelings when they touch me.
On top of that, I also have very sensitive skin, so sometimes touch causes physical discomfort or even physical pain to the point I don’t want to be touched even by my spouse. Fortunately, he’s very understanding about those times. Thank goodness most of those problems are now in my past!
I don’t have that exactly, but here’s a tip: I always pull a few deep, calming breaths while the examination is starting, especially when they’re getting ready to do blood pressure, it just helps to get a clean reading. One time the doctor got me into a conversation and I forgot to do this and so my reading was much higher than normal. I think a lot of people have stress reactions at the doctors, I don’t know how they can trust those BP readings for people like that. [\HIJACK]
I am NOT a toucher. Hardly even with my family, let alone friends, acquaintances or co-workers. I had a co-worker once who transferred in from another division. She was the sort that liked to casually touch you when she talked to you - a hand on your arm, that sort of thing. After a few days I finally said, “Susan, I can see that you’re a toucher. I’m not.” (The hand started to come off me at “I see you’re a toucher.”) I joked around and tell people that this is what comes from being the youngest of five, but I’ve been this way for as long as I can remember. It bothered my mother that I didn’t particularly want to be cuddled as a child.
I’m not normally a confrontational person, but this is one thing that bothers me enough that I’ll speak up.
I fully understand that it makes some people uncomfortable and fearful, which is why I don’t push it. In fact, I touch people quite rarely, for this exact reason. The fact that people have such a negative reaction makes me sad.
The youngest are frequently picked on by the older sibs. Although in my family, the twins in the middle got picked on most because they cried the easiest.
I’m a “no touching!” kind of person. I’ve gotten better about it as I’ve gotten older, but I still don’t like it. I have told people to stop. It usually doesn’t go over well. It’s not that people take umbrage with my delivery, but can’t possibly imagined how anyone would prefer not to be manhandled and groped at every turn by someone else’s whims. I remember one friend just being all pissy with me for not allowing her to constantly invade my personal space, that I was the rude one.
Oh grrrr. I had a group of VIPs showing around, we had to use a jeep for part of the tour and the driver was someone I knew. He kept lightly punching my shoulder, tapping me, in a matey ‘we’re in this together’ kind of a way I had to say ’ please stop touching me’ three times. If I hadn’t had the guests with me he would have got a fucking earfull. The guests picked up on his lack of whatever and it caused a tense atmosphere.
I’ve found that people from Eastern Europe tend to be very touchy-feely, at least significantly more so than Western Europeans, Americans, and Canadians. I visited a Russian Orthodox church and after the service, the children got a round of cuddles from most of the adults there. They actually expected me to participate, but I sort of looked sheepish and they said they understood. Not that there’s anything inherently wrong with cuddling someone else’s child, but I tend to be reserved toward touching strangers.
I have a first cousin who is emotionally my little sis. I do the little nurturing things that big brothers naturally do for their little sisters. She’s an adult now but we always hug on meeting and parting. Her parents, her big brother, my brother, and my mother are all well aware of our bond and they wholeheartedly approve. In fact, her mother and my mother have been caught conspiring to get us to spend more time together because they think it’s especially healthy for us. I’m sure that her mom also is well aware of the fact that the more time she spends with me, the less time she is spending in her boyfriend’s bed.
On a similar note, when I lived in South America, I found that men would constantly touch me (and each other) in the course of conversation. Something as simple as reaching out and touching the listener on the arm or shoulder for emphasis, or when the speaker was about to make an important point.
Being a toucher myself (see my post upthread), this did not make me uncomfortable in the least, and in fact I picked up the habit quickly myself, but some of my fellow gringos were really discomfited by it. Ditto for the custom of greeting people of the opposite sex with an air kiss on each cheek.
I am an extroverted, touchy-feely, huggy person. I started learning in college that not everyone was wired like me, and in fact, for some people, the sort of bonding I enjoyed with leans, hugs, hand holding, and minor snuggling, made them uncomfortable. So, I learned to moderate my behavior, make an effort to read a person’s expression and body language, and not to take it personally.
I do occasionally run into a situation where I cross a boundary I didn’t know about, similar to what chizzuk has. I came up on a colleague and close friend ending a discussion with someone else, and I reached up and gave her a scritch between the shoulder blades (I have friends and relatives who lurves them some scritches). This friend, however, jumped, turned, and grabbed my wrist in the blink of an eye. She didn’t shout, but we both started apologizing at the same time. She took pains to explain that she has Sensory Integration Disorder, and that some touches - like that one - just made her nervous system fire off in very unpleasant ways. I babbled apologies back at her, and after that made sure that I had caught her eye and had her tacit permission to reach out for any physical contact before doing so.
It was a good lesson. I was used to the idea that nearly every other member of the human race is more introverted than I am, and that most people need far less physical contact than I do. This was a good introduction to the idea that for some, physical contact is nerve jangling unpleasantness. I don’t get it, but I respect it.
This is starting to remind me of this old SNL sketch where a couple (Kirstie Alley and Kevin Nealon — yes, that old) go to an Italian restaurant, and the usual touchy-feely stuff the waiters do becomes increasingly overtly sexual, much to the husband’s equally increasing discomfort and outrage.
I know people who seem uncomfortable, but actually saying anything is quite rare. There seems to be a correlation between hard physical boundaries and shyness. You have to be very aware of reactions if you’re going to be touchy-feely with strangers. And you generally should move slowly. And, if you want a hug, even with someone who isn’t a stranger, you always do that little bit where you “ask” with body language, giving them a chance to decline.
The one time I did get an actual verbal negative response, it wasn’t with a stranger. And the problem was about going too far, not any touch whatsoever. I was just playing around with her like I did my other female friends, but I think she took it to mean more. The verbal response, BTW, was “What are you doing?” not anything as explicit as “back off.”
If I remember correctly, you, monstro, are not touchy feely. If you’re wondering how to communicate that nonverbally, the most basic thing I can tell you is act friendly, but keep a fairly wide personal space boundary. If someone does touch you, move back a bit, like you think they only touched you by accident because you were too close. Those are the types of body language cues I am talking about.
It’s not quite what you’re asking, but I’ve told people that I don’t generally want to hug or be hugged, and on one memorable occasion actually pushed an attempted hugger away by the arm and forehead when he ignored my request not to be hugged.
Hehe. Two of my current coworkers are Spanish women, same as me; we’re further North. On my first day at work, after I’d been there for a couple of hours in walks this petite dark-haired tornado saying very loudly “*¡Hooombre! *Feyd, you cut your hair! So short! I’d love to touch it, don’t worry I won’t. ¡Vaaaaya! So short!” The manager introduced her to a new coworker, Kat (they shook hands) and to me. I said “buenas :)” as I shook her hand. She said “oh damn it! It showed so much, that I’m Spanish?” “The ‘hombre’ and ‘vaya’ were pretty big giveaways :D” And then she looked me up and down and said “you know, this is wrong. This is completely wrong.” “Oh c’mon, you’re making me stand up?” “YES!” And I stood up and we kiss-kissed.
It’s always a source of confusion in mixed groups… do we kiss, do we shake hands, do we nod, what?
The only time I’ve had a big issue with someone touching me in a way I didn’t want and which was not sexual was a dude from the RPG Club in my postgrad university. He patted me on the head. I spit at him “don’t. Do. That. Ever. Again.” He did it again. I explained if he did it again, I wouldn’t talk to him any more unless somebody’s guts were spilled on the floor. He patted me a third time.
The last time I saw him was two years later, and through two years of being in the same room almost every Saturday afternoon, I never talked to him again. When he tried to whine to someone about it they told him “well, what did you think would happen? She told you not to pat her!”