“The Feeler” is probably the most prevalent and obnoxious guy that I’ve encountered. Harmless at one end of the spectrum, unbearably creepy on the other (with criminal implications being another category altogether), this guy either doesn’t recognize or disregards the unwelcomeness of his touch.
Upon first meeting a guy, most girls prefer conversation to premature caresses. I’m reasonably confident that these touches are innocent in intent, but they often feel presumptive in execution. If a guy is forceful enough to initiate physical intimacy at this early stage, the girl expects he will pressure her for more early on. Hearing me rant about this apparently much-trumped method, my respectable male friends were aghast: “I’ve always heard it’s a great move to put your hand on her lower back!” This, to me, seems the least intrusive of actions and is both acceptable and appropriate when walking together or when talking in a loud, crowded room. Let me clarify: not all physical contact is bad. A touch on the arm during conversation is flirting. A hand on the butt? Not so much. The Feeler infringes on those boundaries, establishing his interest as purely physical.
On the lower end of the spectrum (and probably the most common of this type), is the guy who goes just a little beyond the lower back. He strolls up beside the girl, presses his hand against her back, and ever-so smoothly slides it around her waist so he’s caressing her side. This subtle (in his mind) move creates two uncomfortable realities:
1. She’s ensnared, forcibly pressed against his side and robbed of personal space. Even worse, the arm trapped near his body has no where to go! She must either place it around him or hold it conspicuously in the air behind him.
2. His face is uncomfortably close to hers, triggering insecurities about skin imperfections—not to mention the paralyzing fear that he may try to kiss her.
All of these realizations force the poor girl into a no-win predicament. Does she accept this unwanted embrace? Or not-so-casually break her way out of it? If the girl chooses to endure the unwelcome grip (likely to avoid causing an even more awkward and embarrassing moment), the guy is encouraged, thinking she is actually into him, creating even more opportunities for touching and discomfort. If she breaks the embrace, however, both parties are embarrassed, with the guy often becoming defensive: “What? You think you’re too good for me?” It’s not that she thinks she’s too good for him. She doesn’t yet know if she is. At this point, she’s probably learned little beyond his first name and beer preference–she has no clue if she wants to be touched or not.
The awkwardness of this moment, though, is a faint twitch of discomfort when compared to an unnerving encounter with a Feeler extremist. This is the guy whose techniques are much more advanced and displays little or no concern for his target’s discomfort, despite her avoidance, or even out-right rejection of his advances.
I’ve often encountered the more common, less aggressive Feeler, but until recently had little experience with the lesser-known breed. It was a blind, double date. Due to miscommunication (or maybe just my own misunderstanding), I actually didn’t realize it was a double-date until the three picked me up; I was convinced instead that it was a group outing. Regardless, the evening was progressing quite nicely–first bowling, then a local bar with karaoke. As my date started to drink, he began taking liberties with more than libations. The more alcohol he drank, the more liberties he took. And although his touches were never exactly inappropriate, they were unwelcome all the same. They began during our duet of “Like a Prayer.” He started with the previously-described arm-around-the waist-move, then moved on to more advanced moves like pulling my arm across the table so I’d lean in for him to tell me something. Unfortunately, he never had anything to say and would just stare while holding my arm or hand. While these advances were discomfiting, they were harmless enough and I endured them.
But he had a hair fetish. At first unperturbed by this admission, I was amused, never expecting what came next. Ready for a night of bowling, I’d worn my hair in an impressively cute, yet practical ponytail. Apparently for someone with a hair fetish, ponytails create an irresistible challenge. My date became obsessed with freeing my hair, first trying to convince me to let it down, then trying to pull it out himself. It became a battle for my hair. Recognizing initial defeat, he pursued a new strategy—what, to him, must have seemed a compromise. With each turn of my head, he reached out and tucked stray hairs behind my ear. Despite my instinctive flinches and swatting of his hand (not to mention our mutual friend’s commands to stop), he persisted.
Needless to say, the evening did not end well. And while this guy represents my most extreme encounter with a Feeler, he probably falls somewhere in the middle. At their best, Feelers are merely annoyances; at their worst, they instill a distress in girls rivaled only by the onset of swimsuit season.