Beware of free donuts.

I just want to clarify my position on superfluous touching. Many of you have expressed concern for my poor husband. Well, he isn't suffering, believe me. Just because I'm not some leech who likes to have constant physical contact with "my man" doesn't mean that I don't approve of touching at appropriate times.

Okay, now I sound like a member of the "touch police". I assure you...just because I have issues with touching doesn't mean I have issues with affection. I just prefer to have people show me affection verbally. What's wrong with that? It's not like I'm walking around with Purell Hand Sanitizer in my back pocket all the time just waiting to go all Monk on your ass. I just don't see the point in having to handle others.

For example...I attend a neighborhood Bible Study. You see, one of my neighbors is a pastor and so he started this a couple of years ago in an attempt to get to know people in the neighborhood better. (You'd think with all these Bible Studies I attend I would be more pious. Well...)Anyway, there is this one couple in the study (that have college age kids for crying out loud) and they are always touching each other. He's rubbing her calf or she's running her fingers up and down his arm or she's resting her hand on his thigh. Come on! It's Bible Study...give it a rest. It reminds me of when I was in high school and the couples who were dating were always meeting up in the hall between classes to make out. Why didn't they just pee on each other to mark their territory? I never really dated anyone from my high school (I was into older guys. I didn't want hallway make-out sessions to interfere with my studies.) therefore earning the reputation of being either a lesbian or an ice queen. I never did anything to refute either of these, but if I had to choose one to deny it would have definitely been ice queen. If everyone thought I was a lesbian then no one would have EVER bothered me. That would have been fabulous. As it was, the guys preferred to think I was really just waiting for the right man to come along so they bugged me constantly. As if any of them were even remotely "the right man".

Anyway, back to Mr. and Mrs. Toucher...it's almost like they are playing a game in which if they lose physical contact with each other they lose. I don't get it. I thought wedding bands proved you were committed, not stroking. In any case, all the touching makes me uncomfortable. It's like my friend from Wales always says, "There's a time and a place for that." (When she said that she was talking about this woman in our weight lifting class who wears the absolute shortest, tightest shorts to class, and then works out directly in front of us. Keep in mind that in this class we do a lot of squatting and bending over, so imagine our view. But, neither of us can seem to stop looking at her! We are the kind of people that would pay money to go to a freak show but never tell anyone. In any case, when we leave class we always talk about her. "Why would she wear those ?" "Who is she trying to impress?" and then my friend says, "There's a time and a place for that." Ok, when exactly is that time and where is the place? I actually asked her that exact question once after she had said that phrase about this woman for the 3rd or 4th time. She said, "I don't know. That's just what we always say in Wales." Not having ever been to Wales I am just going to have to take that on faith.)

So, I guess the bottom line is that it is not just people touching me that I have an issue with...I also have issues with people touching each other. Maybe I'm more screwed up than I originally thought. You know what, though? I don't care. Recently I went to a Youth Specialties seminar about how to recognize and help kids at risk in your youth group. (They mean kids who are cutting, or abusing alcohol or drugs, or who has a tough home life...stuff like that.) Anyway, it is a big Christian group and at the end of this incredible day of hearing about how much kids need strong youth leaders they told each group of folks who were attending together to come up to the front and get some aromatic oil and we were to stand in a circle and anoint each other with oil and pray for the person we were anointing so they could go forth and be helpful to kids. What the..??!?!? I turned to my friend next to me and said, "I'm not doing this. I have to go to the bathroom." She said, "Oh yes you are. Stay put." I said, "No. I'm sick. I'm gonna puke." She said, "Shut up. No you're not. You're going to do this."

Well, I really did feel sick. You see, they had boxes and boxes of free doughnuts in the hall and I ate three really, really fast so no one would see how many I was eating. So between the deep fat fried dough balls in my stomach and the idea of someone putting oil on my forehead, puking was a definite possibility.

In the end, I stayed and anointed someone and was anointed. It was horrible. I know these sorts of gestures are helpful to some people, but I don't really see how. I hope the girl I anointed didn't see me shudder and reach for the hand sanitizer as soon as we were done. I think that may have taken away from the experience for her. And, for some reason, when they said we were going to anoint each other with fragrant oil I was thinking it was going to be garlic or rosemary infused olive oil or something. I suppose someone who got massages and stuff would have known better, but I associate oil with cooking, so the idea of having someone rub some on my head was totally disgusting. Plus, I was afraid it was going to make me break out. I mean, who puts OIL on their face? That's just stupid. And, being the control freak that I am, when the person who was praying for and anointing me was just about to put the sign of the cross on my forehead with the oil I interrupted her blessing and asked her if she could just wipe some of the oil off her fingers first because I didn't want to be all shiny.

I'm like Francis in the movie "Stripes". Remember his tirade to his fellow army boot camp buddies? Don't call me Francis, don't touch my stuff and don't touch me. Then everything will be fine.