Dear commuters who rapidly caress the pole as if you are employee of the month at your local Happy Ending Rub ‘N Tug,
Although I’m aware that you probably don’t realize you are doing it, it’s definitely not very becoming (I assume my opinion would be drastically different if I were male, but… ya, nope). Whether it’s because your gloves slide up and down, or it’s the constant slip of your sweaty palm, you look ridiculous.
I’m actually not so offended by the above part as I find it rather amusing. What bothers me is that when you do that, you touch my hand and/or finger and/or coat and/or leg, when I happen to be using the same pole or standing in your general area. Call me crazy, call me OCD, call me neurotic, call me whatever you want, but do.not.touch.me. I do not want your dirty gloves touching my hand. I do not want your sweaty palms touching my body. I do not want the surplus of fuzz from your coat transferring on to mine. I do not want to pick your stray hairs off my coat. I do not want your backpack that smells deliciously of eggs, dirt, and peanut butter anywhere near my existence. I do not want to have to knock you out. Deal?
Allergic to you. xo