We Are Not that Close!

I am certain that closeness comes in various shapes and forms, but I think that the base is crucial. If the starting point wasn’t strong enough to hold the burden of closeness and vulnerability, you are not going anywhere. Stagnation and deterioration. But! If you shined from the start chances are you might get closer. The question is, how do you know if you are close to someone?

I lived in a place with a huge sofa that could easily make six people really comfortable, and its corner was my favorite spot to do everything, from eating to waxing. I always had too many people there hanging out, it was always busy and loud. The guy I was living with and I loved to entertain guests, cook for them, play games, etc. So, everybody felt comfortable, with some of my people basically living with me in shifts, and I loved it. I loved those days we spent disintegrating from drugs and alcohol on the terrace, only in our undies, for days… After parties sometimes got pretty fucked up so they lasted for more than two nights and three days, but I was never tired or ready to let them go home because if anybody tried to walk more than to reach the elevator, they would lose a leg, it would just fall off. Those romantic zombie-like figures were allowed to do whatever they want in my house, to show up whenever they want, and not to brag, but also order what they want for dinner. We were a little family and we shared everything.

They were walking around in towels, opening the fridge (why is there no d in refrigerator, hm?), having their own guests, their clothes. Besides my favorite people, there were people who I liked but didn’t consider that close or enjoyable to be around often. They were good company, sure, but every couple of weeks, maybe even longer. And there was this random couple. They are both talented and helpful, and they make a good company but I was turning into a landmine each time they were about to come.

I just couldn’t stand when they put their feet on my sofa. When that happened, and it was happening every time, I would just become tense and edgy, and if I was the center of attention the party would be over. But if somebody else was entertaining, I would go through it somehow and calm down. And these two sea elephants would just lay there like they owned the place and make a mess with their crafty bullshit.

That is my legit trauma. And to make it worse, they were not the only ones. I had another sofa-enemy coming often. It was a male persona, interestingly with no personality, and he belonged to some outer circle I didn’t care for. But he used to come with some people and sit on my spot and put his feet on the sofa. He made me mad, but the couple would drive me absolutely serial-killer nuts. Sometimes he would be laying down occupying half of the sofa, and she would massage his feet over his socks and it made me sick to my stomach. Or he would massage her feet for hours while she would do whatever craft she learned last week for some kids, I don’t know. But it made me so, so mad.

We are not that close. You cannot put your feet on my sofa. If you try to lay there like a dead mammoth, I will throw acid in your face.

I do not care.

If I didn’t tell you to feel that comfortable, please don’t try to impose new levels of closeness on me, especially by doing something so outrageous like putting your feet on my sofa.

I don’t know you, I shouldn’t even be seeing your socks. You people need to keep distance.


Photo: Riccardo Bresciani



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