The Touching Chain

For any of you that know me, you will be aware that I spend my time invariably in heels or eating chocolate. Needless to say, I am very much a single girl. 

It may seem unnecessary, but single girls need these devices for survival. It's all very Animal Planet. We need our heels so that we're at a decent eye level to scout out suitable men while having self defense weapons right under our feet...for the less suitable ones. 

And the chocolate...well I like chocolate. I read on a box of tampons once that women need it and didn't want to argue.

Ludicrous as it sounds, I don't believe all girls that are single are 'single girls'. When I talk about single girls, I am not referring to those who are simply single by chance or choice but actually an alternative breed of girls whose singledom is a large part of who they are.
You can spot the difference between a girl who is single, and a 'single girl' from a mile off. When I think of single girls, I always think of my friend Kate. The image is always conjured up of Kate with her perfectly blow-dried hair, flawlessly tight figure in even tighter shorts and a drink in her hand. It is not so much Kate's appearance that sets her apart as a single girl, but a certain aura that comes along with it. The aura that says she has her light on.

Girls as Cabs

You are probably beginning to think I'm insane, or for those of you who live in Kate's halls checking if she left her bedroom light on. What I am actually referring to, is that girls are like cabs. The girls who are taken, or have no interest in seeing anyone are like the cabs that travel around town with their lights off. No matter how much they get waved at by drunkards in the street, they just keep on moving.
Then there are the girls who keep their lights on. This is an equally powerful and risky game. Not to imply that all girls with their lights on will pick up anyone in sight, but it is rather an awareness of the opportunities around them, should they choose to pull over or not. Some girls have their lights on when they've just gotten out of a relationship, when they're on a night out or if they've just had a haircut.

...not pulling over for a man in powder blue.

I personally always have my light on. Judge me as you will, but it is just the way that I am.
When I was 12, my friend Natasha's mother said to me 'never leave the house without make-up on, you never know who you're going to bump into.' I'm sure she was referring to the North London Jewish phenomenon of walking into Brent Cross shopping centre and facing the embarrassment of seeing every sister-of-Streisand you've ever met.
 In spite of this, I took her advice a little more optimistically. I decided that it was possible to meet the love of your life just by walking out the front door, and so my eyes are always open lest I miss an opportunity. My light is indefinitely on.

Thankfully this doesn't mean that I believe I've found love in the arms of every falafel stall owner, shop assistant or man who spills coffee on me on the tube. I may be aware that the right guy is out there, but I am just as aware of all the wrong ones. With my light on and eyes wide open I have been able to witness all the good and bad of single men out there, and it has brought to my attention one very popular flaw - the touching chain. 

The Touching Chain

By day, the romanticism of mysterious strangers is everywhere. The boundary of daylight seems to create a layer of sexual tension that is Big Mac thick. When faced with an attractive guy during the day, you can participate in the 'glance dance' for hours. Because it is socially unacceptable to make any actual moves in the light of day, the glance dance is as far as anyone will go.
I experienced this at Nottingham's lunch hub, Portland, the other day. Glance at cute rugby player...glance away...get friend to confirm that cute rugby player glanced back also...glance for longer and then look away. By the end of it I had devoured a tuna melt and felt like I'd been for an eye test.
Had this encounter taken place during the night time hours however, it would have been wholly different. There is so much full frontal touching, it's enough to make you believe that the lighting in Movida is just so dim that men need to feel you in order to make sure you are actually there. Although it may seem that I am exaggerating, I believe that with the night time comes an unbreakable chain of touching.

could offer to buy her a drink first..

I tested this theory out on Saturday night. Armed with two ferocious blondes I went out in London. Our first stop was a bar that had been airing the Liverpool vs Chelsea match prior to our arrival. Needless to say, more sausage than a butcher's window. As we approached the bar I found myself presented with two men undesirable in their own ways. One could've been my father, the other could've been a babysitting job. I was considering that the younger one might have his charms, at which point he decided to run one hand down my face and the other down my chest while slurring that he had ID to prove his age. So in the mystery of the night time touching chain, alcohol is a pretty valid factor. The old guy valiantly saved me however by grabbing my ass. It was time to move locations.
We arrived at a London club, and it was apparent that the touching chain was continuing. Walking through a crowd of businessmen in one of these clubs feels like going through a vintage car wash...you get touched a little bit from all angles. Aside from the creepy unauthorised touching between strangers, it seems that risqué touching was everywhere. Everyone in sight was being embraced, squeezed and pinched.

It seems that this doesn't just happen in London. When enquiring about clubbing in Magaluf, I was warned never to wear a skirt to a foam party. I was told that the men of Magaluf use the foam as a sort of sexual harassment barrier, and literally insert their fingers up any unsuspecting skirts.

It occurred to me that it wasn't just the men who were doing the touching. My friends and I included wouldn't think twice before pinching an attractive guys ass in a club, just because. In the dark and sultry club setting this seems perfectly acceptable behaviour, but not one of us would be caught dead in the daylight groping at the derrière of the poor guy standing in front of us at Starbucks. 

The Reality of The Touching Chain

Considering the amount of touching that takes place inside a club, one would only imagine it is a preview for what's the come later on. After all, these people are so confident with their hands at this stage of the game, once they truly have someone to themselves with full permission to touch away it can only get better? Sadly, this is almost never the case.

It seems that the more hand-sure a man is in a club, the less he knows what he's doing when push comes to proverbial shove (no pun intended). While these men are feeling us up like we're x-box controller shaped, once they've got us home it's a whole different game. Just this week my friends have told me horror stories of guys who can't get it up, can't keep it in or just simply need a map. I even have one very promiscuous friend who felt the need to pin a guy down and yell at him until he got his act together.

I can't help but wondering why it is that a man can be so confident in the public space of a club, and be left mind boggled and jelly handed in private. Perhaps it is that we live in such a tactile society that the floodgates are open in such a social situation. After all, with a kiss on both cheeks being the norm for a meet and greet, it certainly blurs the line of acceptability. It could also be that the alcohol and dark lighting makes us feel safe, as though we have a license to be uninhibited.

Whatever the answer is, the chain of touching exists no less. The lights go off, the drinks come out and suddenly we are inexplicably having Heathrow airport security frisking flashbacks. Until we figure out this phenomenon, we'll simply have to rely on our stilettos to keep us safe.

I'd love to hear your thoughts and suggestions as always

Olivia Jane