Why I HATE Tactile People!

With a certain level of affection where friends and family are concerned comes tactility in fact it is expected. But I am so used to keeping my own company and living with people who keep their hands to themselves that when I’m in contact with a stranger prone to tactile tendencies, I find them offensive. I automatically draw away from their touch and in no uncertain terms tell them never to do it again!
Someone at work reared this up by caressing my arm from shoulder to wrist and I couldn’t believe his audacity! I told him off and asked never to try it again. It reminded me of a decision I made during my second year of University. The decision never to shake hands with every Tom, Dick and Harry that crossed my path because that’s how it all begins, with shaking hands! Back then; it was for purely selfish reasons – I never wanted to have to wash my hands before eating, it was such a tedious process. Oddly enough, I found more and more reasons to re-enforce the decision.
Boys shake hands more than girls do. You will not find two girls shaking hands unless it is for business purposes but with boys, it is the order of the day. The habit makes you touch so many grossly sweaty palms you can’t help being disgusted and wary of the owners whenever you cross paths.
Then there is those who shake hands for strictly nefarious reasons. They want to hold onto your hand longer than necessary and either feel you up in the process or actually caress your palm. I know someone in my circles who does this to me all the time that I had to talk about it with my cousins. It is inappropriate behaviour for someone of his age and my sensibilities.
When I made the decision not to at University, those who weren’t my friends were more outraged than my actual friends. Friends of mine found it wise because boys just ‘shake’ and go while others called it bad manners and poor social behaviour. I found it so amusing when I became notorious for it. Before someone would proffer their hand to say hello to me, the people in my company would tell them straight off the bat I didn’t shake hands.
Fun-knee enough; once you shake hands with boys, laugh and chat with them, it makes them think they have the right to take other liberties with you. For example said boy at work. If I hadn’t told him off who knows what he would have caressed the next time under the guise of saying ‘hello’, a boob or a butt cheek perhaps? This is why I am going to practice the no-shaking-hands habit once again. No one will dare to take a mile where only an inch is given!
I’ve come to learn that if you don’t respect yourself and expect it from others, no one will respect you. Every inch of my body is a temple to be worshipped on not an object to be felt up by every Tom, Dick and Harry whenever the mood strikes!