The Boyfriend Zone.by Carly Jacobs
If you asked a bunch of guys what The Boyfriend Zone is, most of them will tell you it’s that phase between having casual sex with a woman and later spending every Sunday morning with her shopping for organic apples and escorting her to family christenings. It’s the in between bit, the transitional phase. You go through The Boyfriend Zone and into being a Fully Fledged Boyfriend. The guy who has to remember anniversaries and pretend like other women aren’t pretty anymore.
As someone who has a Fully Fledged Boyfriend, who’s now technically my Defacto (seriously, how hot is THAT word? Not.), the term Boyfriend Zone has developed an entirely new meaning. For me, it’s the parts on my body that only Mr Smaggle is allowed to touch. I have a list of Boyfriend Zones on my body that are sort of reserved for him. Close friends and family are mostly able to touch from the list but they have a fairly strict time limit before I start to get squirmy. I work in several different creative industries and for some reason these environments lend themselves to people getting a little too fresh, a little too quickly. It’s a fine line to tread so sometimes I think it’s best if we all just lay it on the line. If we’ve only just met, here’s the basic orientation of where it’s okay to touch me.
Up for Grabs…
Go for it. You can hold my hand, intertwine fingers with me, dramatically clutch my paws mid-sob story. I actually quite like it when people kiss my hands. Even creepy strangers. Seriously, go nuts.
I have rather… how should I put it… sensory hair. Many women find hair stroking way too intimate but I’ve had quite a few random people shoplift a sneaky stroke of my locks so I’m no longer terribly precious about it. I don’t necessarily like it but you probably won’t get pepper sprayed if you do it.
Fine. As long as it’s quick. A speedy little slap or a super slick slide by is fine. Just don’t linger. That’s when it gets weird.
Usually fine but you should wait for an invitation or ask me politely before hand.
None For Gretchen Wieners (that means you)…
Remember when Paul Keating got totes in troubs for daring to touch the Queen on her back when she visited Australia in the 90s? Yeah… don’t touch my back. It’s against my royal protocol. Especially the small of my back. If you’re hugging me, gently leading me somewhere or telling me a secret, you have 5 seconds MAX of back touchage before I start to feel claustrophobic. At this point it’s best to start kissing my hands or stroking my hair and I’ll start to feel way more comfortable.
I will cut you… or at the very least act as if you just poured acid all over my midsection. I’m extremely weird about anyone touching my stomach and I only let Mr Smaggle do it because he likes it so much. I don’t even really like for me to touch my stomach. I just feel that I’m better represented in other areas.
This one is more hygiene based than anything and even Mr Smaggle gets denied face rights if he’s touched too many stair bannisters. If I’ve seen you wash your hands in the recent past, you’ve got a higher chance of not getting bitch slapped if you go for a face touch but it’s still risky. Best to avoid my face all together. Unless I’m really drunk and I’m showing you how therapeutic it is when I stick my squishy nose in your eye socket.
In all seriousness, I’m actually very touchy and I do love to hug people, so if we ever meet, please feel free to fling your arms around me. I’ll love it, I promise. This list applies more to people who like to linger when they touch or those strange little poppets who think it’s okay to sit on your lap when you met them 30 seconds ago. Never. Okay. This list is also not gender specific, it applies to all the handsy creatures of the world.