I discovered something about myself recently. I hate crowds. I hate people.
Picture it. It's a nice balmy Saturday. I am getting ready to go to this festival with Joyce. For all intensive purposes it's essentially a place to go shopping. My kind of day out. The day just did not go as planned. It was not a memorable experience for either of us.
Problem number one is that there wasn't anything cute to buy. Not that I needed to buy anything, I certainly didn't. But, there was nothing that even made me say, “Let's drop fifty dollars and buy this cute tank.” There was nothing.
If I'm going boutique shopping, I expect to find cute, over priced items to purchase.
It was also a pleasant ninety six degrees. A bitch almost died. I swear the sun broke through my sunscreen. I was crowded, I was sweaty it was not good.
By the end of this event I'm sure I convinced Joyce to never take me out in public again. I was a bitch. You could go as far as to say I was a cunt. Most of the day with me was just a variation on “it's so fucking hot” and “why is the sun out”. I was a horrible friend.
It was in these moments dear to my heart that I came to understand that I never wanted to be touched ever again. I'm already weird about it. I don't like being touched, but this cemented that. I want to retire to a quiet French country village and never talk to anyone again.
Church was the worst. It was the day after the festival. I was with Sacajawea and Rosencrantz and this girl I know from school hugs me. I can hug people. I don't like doing it, but I can do it. I don't even know this girl well. I was just like we're going to have to talk.
Of course Sacajawea knows I don't like being hugged and that hasn't stopped her. She told me I would get used to it. My mother conversely has told me I would get over it. .
We shall see on that front. At the current moment I've just realized that crowds aren't for me. Which, reminds me. I'm doing Pride on Saturday. Go me.