If you mean by people: I have always been kind of jumpy when touched. I am not touch averse, though.
If you mean like sense of touch broadly: As a kid tags really bothered me. Same with sticky stuff on my hands - like glue or paint. As an adult, tags and textures no longer bother me, but I still dislike stuff on my hands.
I got an ice cream cone a few weeks ago…while walking around, the cone somehow slipped from my grip. My dumb ass went “I’m athletic…I can easily stop this from hitting the ground and save my ice cream cone.” No one bothered to tell me, much like a knife, a falling ice cream cone has no handle. By the time I regained control of my ice cream cone, the damage was done…my hands were a fucking nightmare. Ice cream everywhere… about 3 miles from home, on foot.
Needless to say…the rest of my afternoon, and most of my night were ruined. Even after washing my hands multiple times, I still knew they were sticky.
If you mean by people: I have always been kind of jumpy when touched. I am not touch averse, though.
If you mean like sense of touch broadly: As a kid tags really bothered me. Same with sticky stuff on my hands - like glue or paint. As an adult, tags and textures no longer bother me, but I still dislike stuff on my hands.
I got an ice cream cone a few weeks ago…while walking around, the cone somehow slipped from my grip. My dumb ass went “I’m athletic…I can easily stop this from hitting the ground and save my ice cream cone.” No one bothered to tell me, much like a knife, a falling ice cream cone has no handle. By the time I regained control of my ice cream cone, the damage was done…my hands were a fucking nightmare. Ice cream everywhere… about 3 miles from home, on foot.
Needless to say…the rest of my afternoon, and most of my night were ruined. Even after washing my hands multiple times, I still knew they were sticky.