Warning, profanity ahead, read at your own risk, goddamn it.

Whatever happened to respect for personal space? By that I mean the inherent right to a certain amount of emptiness between strangers.

For example, several mornings each week I work out at a nearby gym. I know gyms can get crowded and there are times when the only treadmill open is the one between two people. But I arrive at 4 a.m., a time you would think people are way to fucking cranky to intrude upon personal space. Yet on most mornings, as I sweat away on the elliptical trainer (of which there are eight in a row, and I am on one end because I am usually first and thus get my pick, which at 4 a.m. I sure as hell deserve), without fail one of two regulars take the machine right next to me. What the fuck? Where is the respect for my territory, being the alpha exerciser for arriving first? When they climb onto the machine next to me, it is as if they are saying, “I reject the elliptical dominance you assume for arriving first, and to show you my utter disrespect, I am going to ignore the other six empty machines and take the one right next to you, hoping you will notice this giant ‘Fuck you’ as I sweat mere inches away. Asshole.’” So now not only do I have to squeeze back any farts, but I have to look over every now and then to make sure they are not going faster than me because they have the gonads to challenge my dominance. The only way to truly fuck’em right back is to kick their miserable ass in speed. But even then, do they see the nearly empty line of machines and say, “Don’t want to get too close to that guy who has kicked my ass numerable times when it comes to vigorous exercise”? Do they respect the minimum one-machine-space (and more when the whole line is empty) as they clamber aboard? Of course not, forcing me to kick their miserable ass once again. What the fuck? How many times must I prove the fact I totally own you? Even worse is the woman who chews gum as she exercises. No, not just chew. She snaps, crackles and pops like a goddamn breakfast cereal. Her mouth remains wide open as if chewing cud instead of gum (thus I have given her a nickname like I have all the other early morning regulars; she is Cow Bitch and, since I’m thinking of it, others include Echo Boy – he drives that particular Toyota even though he’s a grown-up – Long Tall Baldie in a Black Shirt – or a green shirt or yellow, etc. – and the Fuckleheads, these three numbskulls who talk loudly as they trade off on a machine, and talking way more than exercising). If you are chewing gum that loudly, you need to be at least four machines away at the very least. Maybe more. Or you just need to stop chewing gum as if you were 5.

There are also very specific, if unwritten, personal-space rules that apply to movie theaters. Early arrivers earn a personal sphere that stretches several seats in every direction (and more if the movie is not crowded). For example, let us say the first people to arrive take and aisle seats in a particular row. Their sphere now stretches two rows in front of them as well as down their entire row, save for the aisle seats on the opposite side. Of course, this sphere shrinks as more people arrive, and disappears should it be a very popular film, as the opening weekend of the Pirates of the Caribbean, even though that movie was a big steaming pile of crap. But why is it that an allegedly intelligent species can’t seem to grasp these basic rules of personal space? May times I will have established myself at the end of a row (again, being first asserts dominance) and with many many seats still open, someone will brush past me and sit a mere 3-4 seats away. Or worse, sit right in front of me, at which point they might as well just turn around and say, “Go fuck yourself, ace.” Because those seats directly in front of someone are the most dear when it comes to personal space. Imagine the alpha lion laying on the sunny rock, a rock that suddenly becomes the best sunny rock on the whole fucking savannah because that particular lion has chosen to lay on it. Now, there are plenty of other rocks and, quite honestly, are pretty much the same. And the other lions stretch out on them, knowing that while they may not be the best rocks on the savannah, they’re pretty fucking good. Now imagine the lion who decides the only rock he wants is the one occupied by the alpha male. Now as he attempts to take a spot on that rock, he is going to get his head taken off by the alpha lion. And the other lions are going to think, “Man, that guy was a complete dumbass, these rocks are just fine.” This is the attitude you need to adopt as you enter a movie theater, especially if you arrive late because, unlike everyone already seated, you can’t get your act together. They have all chosen their fucking rocks and while they may not be the best, they deserve room and respect. So don’t go plopping yourself down in front of them or right next to them. Especially if you are the type to make really annoying theater noises, like chewing ice or pawing through popcorn. Just because no one will tear your fucking head off doesn’t mean you’re not a dumbass.

And bathrooms. I am not sure what proper protocol is in the women’s room (nor do I care), but in the men’s room, it’s pretty simple. When there is room, you need to be far enough away to make it clear you are not interested in glancing at another guy’s johnson. This means at least one urinal away, and if the bathroom is empty, then you should take a urinal at one of the ends, allowing the next guy to take the urinal at the other end. Then fill in as needed (next guy takes urinal in middle, and so on). There are times when this is impossible, like in most airport bathrooms since those thing are always so fucking crowded because no one ever wants to piss on a plane because the only worse bathrooms are the porta-johns at the Arkansas State Fair. So there is no need to hold it just because the only available urinal is next to someone (and if you do wait, or you take a stall to pee, then people will think you can’t step up to the plate like a man). Take the open urinal and stare straight ahead the entire time, making it clear you are not there to glance at another guy’s johnson. Stall etiquette also requires you to leave at least one empty between squatters. Unless you happen to be a U.S. senator determined to deny his homosexual tendencies until he enters an airport bathroom, which apparently is the best place to launch your ass rocket.

These are just some of the places people need to be more mindful of personal space. But it’s something that should always be at the back of your mind when in public. For example, as you peruse the shelves of your local grocery store, you may want to ask yourself, “By placing my cart in the center, have I hindered shopping traffic, or do I own the whole fucking aisle like I think I do?” The answer may surprise you.