Space Invader

I just have to write this blog. Like literally, if I don't write this I might explode a bit.

Yesterday I went on a date. We went for coffee, even though I don't drink coffee. But that was ok, I got peppermint tea. 

He, we'll call him Captain Neg, was half an hour late. This turned out to be a good thing because by the end of the date we were counting down the minutes til we could leave. It was that awkward.

He mentioned his penis, or masturbating, approximately every 30 seconds. Now I know that people masturbate and that men have penises. But what I would rather not have to endure is a guy reminding me of this on a regular basis. In a coffee shop. 

But the thing that I dislike most about him was that he invaded my space. I noticed it first when he approached me on the street and started chatting me up. In fairness, I asked for his number, a) as a way of hurrying the already awkwardning conversation to a close, and b) so I could go and Skype my nan. I noticed that he kept inching closer and closer to me. It made me feel uncomfortable mostly because I'm a small person and he's a tall person. 

Then yesterday, when we managed to grab a table in the coffee shop, I noticed it again, this time more clearly and it was so off-putting, so intimidating, I couldn't help but adopt a defensive pose. Arms crossed, back against the wall so I could turn my body slightly outwards towards open space because when I turned towards the table he was just there. He was just everywhere, all over that table. 

Now there's a very good spoken word poem about shrinking women and how women subconsciously try to fit ourselves into tiny spaces, try to take up as little room as possible. But I was doing this because there was no space to occupy. He took it all.

Imagine you are sat at a coffee table, opposite a person. Generally coffee tables are not huge. But if there's two of you, then usually you both occupy half the table. If you're intimate then you might hold hands across the table, or you might reach over to touch the other person. But his arms stretched across, his coffee cup was on my half. Everytime I put my hands on the table I was at risk of touching him. And I didn't want to touch him. 

We are all very protective of our personal space. We have reason to be. So regardless of his punctuality or immature constant talk about his appendage, it was his space invading that put me off him the most. You know a date is not going well when you're going out of your way to not touch them.