Jonathan Peterson ‘23
Satire Editor & Photographer
Welcome back to the second edition of Tips, a column that will continue running until people learn that I am decidedly not a trusty advisor for social interactions or until I run out of ideas. Last week, we covered bathroom politics in what must have been one of the least-important pieces published in this newspaper’s history.[1] This week, we deal with personal space, a difficult and subjective field made even more complex by last year’s mandatory-minimum six feet of distance rule (which I’m certain all students adhered to—all 72 inches).
The maxim “less is more” is almost always applicable. Brevity in writing is appreciated. The strong, silent, mysterious types always seem to draw the most intrigue. And the man[2] breathing down my neck as I wait in the self-checkout line at Harris Teeter certainly adds immeasurable pleasure to my day. You see the issue. While the saying holds true in many circumstances, less is simply not more when it comes to personal space. If I can smell your breath while we’re talking, you had better be a friendly dog[3] or a more-than-friendly friend at Bar Review. No exceptions.
However, while less is not more, that is not to say that more is more. Certainly, there is a point at which distance becomes uncomfortable. If I’m making hand-cup-to-ear gestures at you to physically show you that I can’t audibly understand you, you’re probably too far away. Bar Review, again, supplies a perfect example of the complexity of this situation—everyone’s personal bubble is different, and it’s up to you as an individual to be receptive to others’ discomfort. Don’t be the guy in Harris Teeter—think for a second about whether the person you’re approaching is making bug-eyes or heart-eyes at you.
To further complicate this, the thing you are planning on doing can affect people’s desire to distance themselves from you. If you’re the grapefruit-juice-guy at Dandelion,[4] most people’s personal bubble increases dramatically when you pop that top. Although, to illustrate the issue here, I would have loved to be in close proximity to Section C’s dominant performance.[5] Other activities which might change a person’s desire for space include, but are not limited to: public make-outs, general screaming, certain kinds of political participation, and much more. This is, clearly, not a bright-line rule. However, one simple fact of this standard is that relatively few actions will make people want less personal space—a general conversation is probably when personal space requirements are at their lowest. However, most other activities serve only to heighten an individual’s need for space.
I know these last two tips have included multiple dog references but I’m going to do it again. People, like dogs, have different standards for space. Not all of us are golden retrievers and labradors. In fact, very few of us are, especially after this pandemic. Honestly, as I write this stream-of-consciousness, I think people are more like cats. Some are insufferably needy, most hit a nice middle ground, while others will absolutely maul you given the slightest chance. You should assume that people, until proven otherwise, fit into that third category of cats. Less isn’t more, and more may not be more, but treating people like cats is the Goldilocks “just right” solution to this problem. And with that, see you next week, all you cool cats and kittens.[6]
---
jtp4bw@virginia.edu
[1] I am incredibly proud to be an active contributor to this decline.
[2] Let’s be honest, it’s always a man.
[3] Yes, I talk to dogs.
[4] I assume that was grapefruit juice but someone should probably call Snopes for this one.
[5] Big shoutout from this author to the section who imitated professors, and specifically to whoever was playing Professor Hellman. I had her for ConLaw and that was hilarious.
[6] I refuse to apologize for this.