Can't Touch This

Wednesday it was 73 degrees in Denver. Last night it snowed on my walk home from the bar.

But anyhow, back to the topic at hand. Those who know me well know that, generally, I don't like to be touched. Numerous friends have tried to break down this boundary for me, most notably Lauren and Beth who sandwiched me between them for the majority of 2007.

Denver has continued to push this boundary. People here are friendly. Sometimes too much so. I'm more than happy to be perky and friendly and courteous to those around me, but Denver is a city of huggers and touchers and I'm not ok with it.

Take today, for instance. I went to yoga during lunch to stretch out my angry muscles. The instructor, who is ridiculously good looking, is also a toucher. He's one of those yoga people that puts his hand on you, gently pushing you a little farther into the pose. Basically, this resulted in me feeling even more tense and, while hearing him walk around the room, silently pray "please don't touch me, please don't touch me."

I don't know how one tactfully says "I don't like to be touched." Sometimes its obvious, like the time a coworker's friend went to give me a hug goodbye and I visibly flinched. He switched to a handshake mid-way and I felt more awkward than normal. I think about caveating it sometimes, maybe a little "I'm sorry, I don't like to be touched. I'm from the East Coast." People here think that the east coast is full of uptight, high-strung, unfriendly people, so maybe that would help and they would just nod sympathetically.

But alas, I think I'll have to keep my oddity to myself and let the hot yoga instructor touch me (oh life's so unfair!). Every cranky muscle was instantly better and I went back to the office ready to plow through some work . Or at least ready to write my blog.