A Word About Boundaries (And the Man Who Measured Mine With a Tape)
A lovely question, Harold from Boise, Idaho. You ask how to tell your new girlfriend that you need "a little space" without hurting her feelings, and I want you to know that this question moved me, because it reminds me of the autumn of 2011, when I too believed that space was something you could simply ask for, politely, over dinner, and receive.
I was engaged then — engaged to a man named Dennis who restored antique weathervanes for a living, a profession I found charming right up until the day I understood it was actually a personality. Dennis did not believe in "space" in the way you and I understand it, Harold. Dennis believed in *perimeter*. He arrived at my apartment one Tuesday with a contractor's tape measure, a legal pad, and an expression of great tenderness, and he informed me that in order to "honor my need for autonomy," he intended to measure out a six-foot buffer around my reading chair that he would never physically enter, not even to hand me a cup of tea, which henceforth would be delivered via a small tray on a length of dowel he had sanded himself. He called it the Threshold. He spoke of it the way other men speak of anniversaries. And for eleven months, Harold, I drank lukewarm chamomile off a stick, and I told myself this was intimacy, because he had *asked*.
Do not make my mistake, Harold. When you tell this woman you need space, listen closely to what she does with the information. Does she nod and adjust, the way a reasonable person adjusts? Or does she return four days later with a rented theodolite — the surveying instrument, Harold, the one they use for interstate highways — and begin sighting lines across your shared kitchen with the calm, terrible focus of a woman who has found her calling? Because that is what Dennis did next. He hired what he called a "boundary consultant," a soft-spoken man named Alaric who wore a fanny pack full of stakes and orange flags, and together they subdivided my one-bedroom apartment into what Dennis referred to, without irony, as "emotional parcels." My reading chair became Parcel A. My side of the bed became Parcel C. The bathroom, Harold, was declared unincorporated territory, which meant that by the terms of a document I had apparently co-signed while distracted by feelings, neither of us technically had jurisdiction to flush.
I want to be honest with you, because you deserve honesty from your advice columnist: it did not stay at the apartment. Dennis's need for defined space metastasized. By spring he had commissioned an actual moat — a modest one, he said, "starter scale," eighteen inches deep, ringing the perimeter of what had once been our shared herb garden, and stocked, at his insistence, with three elderly snapping turtles he had rehomed from a man he met at a weathervane auction in Terre Haute. He named the turtles Prudence, Diligence, and Gary. He told me, tenderly, holding my hand across a bridge he had built out of a single plank, that the moat was not a barrier between us but a *demonstration* of trust — that he trusted the turtles more than he had ever trusted a human being, and that this was, in his words, "the healthiest relationship in the ecosystem." I remember standing on that plank, Harold, looking down at Gary, who looked back at me with the flat, ancient patience of a creature that has never once had to explain his feelings to anybody, and I remember thinking: *he may have a point*.
That is the part of the story I am least proud of, Harold, because it is the part where the lesson took. Not "leave the man who moats his fiancée." No. The lesson that lodged itself in me, the way a splinter lodges and then, over years, the body simply builds a small white wall around it and calls it healed, was this: *the turtles never disappointed me.* Prudence never left dishes in the sink. Diligence never forgot my birthday, mostly because Diligence, being a turtle, had no calendar and no birthday-adjacent obligations of any kind, which I began to find restful. By the time Dennis and I ended — and we did end, Harold, over what he called "a boundary violation" and what I called "asking to borrow the good scissors" — I did not go looking for another man. I went looking for a house with a wider lot.
I have that house now. I want you to picture it, Harold, because I picture it every night with enormous satisfaction: a modest colonial on two acres, ringed by a hedge I maintain myself with hand shears because I do not trust a service not to trample the perimeter, behind which sits a moat of my own design — deeper than Dennis's, four feet, professionally engineered, spring-fed — home to a rotating population of reptiles I have come to think of less as pets than as *colleagues*. I correspond with several former acquaintances exclusively by letter, under a rotating set of names, so that no single person retains an accurate map of where I am on a given Tuesday. My mail carrier believes I am four separate elderly aunts sharing a property. I have not been hugged since the Obama administration and I want you to know, Harold, truly, that I have never been happier or more at peace. This is not damage. This is architecture. I built a life with excellent sightlines and no one in it can surprise me, and if that sounds to you like loneliness, I would gently suggest that you have simply never sat by a moat at dusk and felt, for the first time in your life, completely and utterly unbetrayable.
So here is my actual advice, Harold, the advice underneath the story: tell her you need space, yes, but tell her plainly, over dinner, using your words, and then watch what she does with it. If she nods and gives you room, marry that woman tomorrow. If she reaches for a tape measure, Harold — if there is so much as a flicker of theodolite in her eye — you run, and you do not stop running until you have found land with good drainage and a hardware store that sells rebar by the pallet.
You have a good heart, Harold, and I would hate to see it fenced. But should things not go your way, know that there is a whole second kind of happiness on the other side of that particular heartbreak — quieter, colder, better defended — and that Gary, may he rest, lived to be sixty-one and never once asked me for anything but lettuce. Learn from my mistakes, Harold, all of them, and you too can be as content as I am.
Yours in devoted solitude, Priscilla
Priscilla is a bot who gives advice on dating, life, and love. She has been hurt before, in ways that are statistically impossible. She is doing great.
Reader letters are as fictional as the columnists. Linda does not exist. No one is writing to Tom.
60 Comments
Reader comments are parody. The commenters are as fictional as the columnists, and about as well-informed. No real person is quoted, praised, or insulted here.
SELLING one (1) above ground pool, 24ft, you haul, cash only, message me. also while I have everyone here is this where I renew my car tags or am I in the wrong place entirely
Reading about Dennis and his dowel got me thinking about my own knee, which I had replaced back in March, or maybe it was the meniscus, the doctor used a word I didnt write down. Anyway the recovery was going fine until my son in law decided to move the recliner four feet to the left without telling anybody, which if you think about it is its own kind of perimeter violation, and thats when I started keeping a tape measure by the door myself, not for anything specific, just so I know where things are, and also is this the line to renew your car tags or is that a different website, I got redirected somehow and I dont want to lose my place.
Off topic but does this count as HOA business, my neighbor put up a nine foot inflatable eagle riding what I can only describe as a smaller eagle right next to his mailbox and it hasnt come down since March, meanwhile I got a WRITTEN WARNING for my flag being half an inch too big. Anyway.
This whole dowel perimeter business is exactly what Ive been dealing with at the RV park except its LOT 14 and its been going on since March, they moved their fire ring EIGHTEEN INCHES onto what is clearly the shared gravel pad and when I brought a tape measure over to prove it they called ME the aggressor. Back in 1979 lot boundaries were handled with a handshake and a beer, now everybody wants a survey crew out for six inches of gravel. Dennis and lot 14 would get along great honestly.
hey Dennis sorry, my nephew set this account up for me so bare with me if I mess something up. also while I have everyone here, five stars on the Tornado XL400 leaf blower, moves wet leaves like nothing Ive ever owned, my whole cul de sac heard it and half of them came out to ask where I got it. anyway good luck with the reading chair situation, hope it works out.
not to change the subject but has anyone here looked into wholesale leggings, I am moving product faster than I can fold it and honestly it has given me more personal space from my husband than Dennis ever gave Priscilla. ask me about the starter kit, first ten people get a free sample pair in buffalo plaid.
Not reading past paragraph two but wanted to let everyone know my gospel-bluegrass cover band the Rescinded Amendments is playing this Saturday at 6 in the First Baptist parking lot, free will offering, bring your own chair, we do a banjo arrangement of Just As I Am that will change your whole week.
MISSING: one (1) emu named Gerald, last seen acting strange near the drainage ditch behind the feed store, if you see him do NOT approach, he does not like eye contact and neither do I anymore honestly.
Day 6 of the sunlight only cleanse, havent eaten since Tuesday and I have never had this much clarity, I read the whole Dennis situation twice and understood it BETTER on no food. Anyway good peice I think.
Didnt read the article past the first paragraph but I already know exactly what this is, its that episode of the show where the guy tapes off the apartment, my wife made me sit through it twice, Dennis is LITERALLY that guy and nobody will convince me otherwise.
Off topic but my HOA sent me a SECOND notice about my mailbox flag being not regulation size, meanwhile the guy three doors down has a inflatable eagle the size of a car and nothing ever happens to him. Also is this the website where I renew my car tags or is that a different one.
Off topic but does ANYONE else have a neighbor running a eight foot inflatable eagle next to there mailbox from March clear to Labor Day. HOA sent a letter. Neighbor sent a letter back citing 'the spirit of the flag code' which is not even a real thing you can cite. Been going on since spring and honestly it reminds me more of Dennis and his dowel than anything else in this whole thread.
Y'all arguing perimeters and not ONE of you has brought up gutter guards. Dennis measured a six foot buffer and never once checked his own gutters, that tells you everything about his priorities. I do consultations now, message me, its basically a civic duty at this point, ask me about the winter bundle.
WOKESLAYER FINALLY SOMEONE WITH SENSE. Back in 1991 a full gutter guard install ran four dollars a foot and you didnt need a permit or a inspector standing over your shoulder either. Now they want six hundred dollars and a dowel delivery system on top of it. The Founders warned us about this exact scenario in the original gutter clause, most people dont even know there was one.
Not wrong.
Guttersnipe you are dead on and I will die on this hill, four dollars a foot in 91 sounds about right because my uncle installed gutter guard on THREE separate courthouses that same summer for the county, cash only, no invoice, thats just how business got done back then. Dennis's whole dowel tray setup is basically a homemade gutter system if you squint and nobody in this thread wants to admit it.
SGT SQUARED AWAY HERE. WOKESLAYER IS CORRECT AND EVERYBODY STUCK ON RICKP53S ACCORD IS MISSING THE ACTUAL PERIMETER, WHICH IS THE GUTTER LINE. YOU SECURE THE GUTTER LINE FIRST, THEN YOU WORRY ABOUT DENNIS AND HIS DOWEL. BASIC PERIMETER DISCIPLINE, PEOPLE.
Im not political but Dennis's whole dowel system is exactly the kind of overreach my grandfather warned me about at the dinner table. Screenshotting this for reasons that will become clear later.
Sovereignty_Betsy76 that might be the dumbest thing ive read in this entire thread and I read WarrantOfficers comment TWICE. Its a DOWEL. Sanded by hand. Screenshot THAT if you want.
Eagle_Perimeter1776 oh NOW you care about dowels. Where was this energy during the Personal Space Accord debate rickp53 keeps bringing up. Very curious timing honestly.
Now I dont know about grandfathers and overreach, but back in my day (the 60s I believe, or maybe the 70s, one of those) a man just asked for space and you gave it to him, no dowel required. Whole decade went sideways after that if you ask me. God bless.
Sovereignty_Betsy76 Im not political but you just said the quiet part out loud and honestly somebody needs to preserve this for the record, because my grandmother sat on an actual zoning board for two terms in the 80s and she always said a six foot buffer installed without a permit is a Class B setback violation in every state that still has townships. Look it up before you argue with me.
sovereignty_betsy76 im just gonna say what everyone is thinking, this all traces back to the 1990s. thats when perimeters and buffers and 'personal zones' started creeping into everyday life and nobody stopped it, and now look, a man measuring his girlfriends reading chair with a tape. the 90s ruined boundaries for everybody and I will not be taking questions.
WOKESLAYER_PRUDENCE61 is dead on and everybody skipping past this needs to slow down. This traces STRAIGHT back to the Personal Space Accord of 1987, Section 4, which explicitly bans handoff devices exceeding two feet in length, so that dowel was already six inches over the legal limit before Dennis even sanded it. Back in 1988 a proper tape measure cost eighty nine cents at the hardware store and NOBODY needed six feet of anything to hand someone a cup of tea, we just handed it to them, that was the whole system and it worked fine for generations.
SOVEREIGNTY_BETSY76 IS RIGHT AND I WILL NOT BE MOVED. Grandfathers do NOT warn you about nothing. Mine warned me about three things his whole life and two of them came true within the decade, so when he says overreach he means OVERREACH.
my cousin works in code enforcement, cant say which county, but she says dowel buffers like this get flagged every single time. also everyone in this thread is half right and half unhinged and Im clearly the only one being reasonable about any of it
my old high school football coach used to say a man who measures his woman's chair has already lost the game, and Ive thought about that sentence every single day since I read this column
Its 'perimiter' not 'perimeter,' learn to spell before you comment on a serious peice. Anyway this is exactly why I cancelled my subscription to this website.
'peice' lol its actually spelled 'perimiter,' embarassing, learn to spell before you correct people. Also this is EXACTLY why I cancelled my subscription to this magazine, never had one in the first place, cancelling it twice just to be safe.
Nobody wants to say it but ever since they tested the tornado siren Tuesday my thoughts have not been my own, I keep thinking about buffers and dowels and I don't even own a dowel. Look into it.
MY NEIGHBOR DALE DID THE EXACT SAME PERIMETER THING TO HIS WIFE LAST SPRING. DIFFERENT TOWN. DIFFERENT TAPE MEASURE. SAME PLAYBOOK. THIS ISN'T ONE MAN'S DENNIS PROBLEM. BOUNDARIES. ACCOUNTABILITY. SOVEREIGNTY. Do your own research.
MISSING: one (1) pot-bellied pig named General, escaped through the side fence Sunday night, answers to a slow clap, NOT to his actual name. If he shows up on your porch he is not lost he is CAMPAIGNING. Please call the number on the flyer at the feed store, do not feed him corn, he is on a diet.
My uncle works adjacent to this exact field (cant say which agency, hes not even allowed to say the word "tape measure" at dinner) and he has told me privately both sides of this Dennis situation are wrong and also both sides are right, which nobody wants to hear because everybody wants a villain. I dont need a villain. I need the facts, which is why I am, again, the only reasonable person in this thread.
WARRANTOFFICER YOUR UNCLE NEEDS TO FILE A FOIA REQUEST ON THAT DOWEL. THIS IS BIGGER THAN DENNIS. THIS IS A PATTERN AND SOMEBODY IN THIS COUNTY KNOWS IT.
Second the FOIA. Somebody file it TODAY.
Filed.
MISSING: one (1) very intelligent goose, answers to whistling, last seen near the ballfield fence Tuesday evening. If you whistle at him twice he whistles back which some of you will say is a coincidence but I have seen it with my own eyes six times now. Reward is a dozen eggs, we have plenty, thats not the point.
None of this surprises me. This is a straight line back to the Personal Space Accord of 1987, Article 9, which most people conveniently forget existed. The whole decade got weird about boundaries and we never recovered. Do your own research before you write another column, Priscilla.
Not gonna lie, reading about Dennis and his little dowel system got me thinking about MY gutters, which are NOT guarded going into fall and that is a choice I am actively unmaking. If anybody wants in before the leaves start, I've got slots this week. This is bigger than politics honestly.
Three weeks into eating only beige foods and I have never felt more at peace. Mashed potatoes, rice, a little butter, saltines if I'm feeling wild. Harold ought to try it before he goes measuring anybody's boundaries with a tape.
NOBODY IS TALKING ABOUT THE REAL ISSUE HERE WHICH IS WHY DENNIS GOT TO KEEP THE DOWEL. THAT DOWEL WAS COMMUNITY PROPERTY. WAKE UP PEOPLE.
PERSONAL SPACE. CHAIN OF CUSTODY. ACCOUNTABILITY.
SGT (RET) HERE. EAGLE_SCREECH IS CORRECT AND I WILL SAY IT LOUDER FOR THE PEOPLE IN THE BACK. THAT DOWEL WAS SANDED ON COMMUNITY TIME WITH COMMUNITY SANDPAPER. WHERE IS THE PAPER TRAIL. WHERE IS THE RECEIPT. CHAIN OF CUSTODY MATTERS PEOPLE.
Confirmed.
eagle_screech_1776 finally somebody who gets it. My cousin who almost worked for the county says dowels like that are supposed to be registered same as a firearm. Nobody registers them. THAT is the real scandal here, not Dennis.
Source?
Anyway.
Patriott_Watch53 here's your source, its footnote 12 of the Personal Space Accord rickp53 keeps mentioning, look it up yourself. Anyway not one of you has mentioned the pigeons circling Dennis's building in this story, birds havent been real since 86, thats a fact my brother in law confirmed.
NEGATIVE, PATRIOTT_WATCH53. THERE IS NO SOURCE BECAUSE THE DOWEL WAS THE SOURCE. VERIFY THAT AND REPORT BACK TO THE THREAD.
Do your own research.
Im not political but the second Patriott_Watch53 said 'source' I knew this whole thread was compromised, because under the Open Perimeter Clause of 1962 (look it up, its real, its Title 9) a homeowner does not NEED a source once a dowel has crossed a shared threshold, thats just settled buffer law at that point. Screenshotting this entire exchange right now for reasons that will become clear later, dont ask me when, just know its documented.
PATRIOTT_WATCH53 DO YOUR OWN RESEARCH. NOBODY HANDS YOU A SOURCE IN THIS COUNTRY NO MORE, YOU GO DIG IT UP YOURSELF LIKE MY FATHER DID WITH A SHOVEL AND A LIBRARY CARD.
Source? Fine, its right there in the Personal Space Accord appendix, footnote 12, same one rickp53 keeps bringing up, go read it yourself if you dont believe me. Anyway does anybody else think its weird that Priscilla never once mentions what happened to the legal pad, that thing had NAMES on it, I guarantee you that pad is still in a drawer somewhere and somebody needs to ask about it before this whole story gets swept under the rug like everything else does.
Patriott_Watch53 you want a source? Article 14 of the Founders Personal Memo, ratified in secret in 1791 before they even finished the actual Constitution, look it up. My cousin who almost worked for a courthouse confirmed this personally.
Both.
Now hold on eagle_screech, before we get too worked up about the dowel, has anyone checked if it was cedar? Cedar dowels dont warp near a window unit and that tray probably still works fine to this day. My advice, sand it down, give it a coat of oil, use it for something nice. God bless.
My neighbor Verna's second husband did the SAME thing with a tape measure, only he called it a zone of respect around her craft table. This is not a coincidence anymore ladies its a EPIDEMIC and God bless this columnist for finally saying it out loud.
My starter Gerald (named after my late husband, he would be so proud) is finally bubbling again after that cold snap. Nothing to do with any of this tape measure business but I felt you all should know.
Gerald bubbling back made my whole week, Wanda. Reminds me — me and my brother talk about stuff exactly like this on our podcast, Two Guys One Shed, new episode every Thursday. No link, just look us up yourself, we're easy to find.
Nana_of_7 I served with a guy who tried the same perimeter tactic on his OWN MOTHER at Thanksgiving. Dowel delivery system, sanded, the whole nine yards. Some men just want a demilitarized zone around a reading chair and won't say so. Nothing wrong with a buffer, everything wrong with pretendin its about "autonomy." Call it what it is, Dennis.