Oh, and if I'm creeped out, keys are in a fist with them pointing out between my knuckles. But don't swat at the huge bug flying into your face like that or you end up giving yourself a nasty scrape....

It is weird that sometimes what seems either completely normal OR just confusing to you as a child is just downright weird and creepifying when you think of it as an adult. When I was in sixth grade, my best firend had an inground pool. When I used to go over to swim, her mother was all "Sophia has boobies. J___, why don't YOU have boobies?' Her dad was all" Wow, Sophia looks REALLY good in a bathing suit!" and her older sister (who was a lesbian) used to make me sit there while she brushed and brushed and brushed my hair. And I thought little of it at the time, but... Weird. Also, the best friend J. not only went to Harvard, but spent at least a semester as a call girl.

I was going to say...I thought not having a routine was the safe thing?

Or, you know. PUT OUT AN EYE.

Oh wait, wait. Nice Guy Backlash.

Actually, "Nice Guy, But..."

Women have routines? Do women here have car-reaching routines?

If it involves going down an alley, I usually have the "eyes and ears wide open" switch turned on, and my keys sticking out between my fingers--learned that in college, when I walked home from work after midnight on a regular basis.

Don't argue with me when I'm hugging you, dude. And Mal's a lot more than all right, by my man/woman criteria.

You do need the hug, as do all the Really Good Guys, because you get unfairly painted with the same brush by virtue of having a Y chromosome, and it's the other thing about the predators that majorly sucks.

I don't have a routine per se for getting to my car, but I am almost always conscious of where I'm parking and making note of my surroundings. Particularly when I travel, but come to think of it, in my day to day comings and goings.

Holy crap, Sophia. That's some family...

It is weird that sometimes what seems either completely normal OR just confusing to you as a child is just downright weird and creepifying when you think of it as an adult. When I was in sixth grade, my best firend had an inground pool. When I used to go over to swim, her mother was all "Sophia has boobies. J___, why don't YOU have boobies?' Her dad was all" Wow, Sophia looks REALLY good in a bathing suit!" and her older sister (who was a lesbian) used to make me sit there while she brushed and brushed and brushed my hair. And I thought little of it at the time, but... Weird. Also, the best friend J. not only went to Harvard, but spent at least a semester as a call girl.

A lot of childhood has odd sparks of ill-socialzied sexuality. It's a very weird space, which I thought Welcome To The Dollhouse captured very well.

Actually, "Nice Guy, But..."

At which point I put on a wifebeater and steal cars. Got it.