Personal Space

I went to Target this afternoon buying more versions of the T-shirts I wear everyday (except these are V-neck-CRAAAAZY). While I was standing at the checkout counter, a man got in line behind me. And by behind me I mean *right* behind me. It was almost like he was trying to snuggle. He was standing so close to me that the cashier actually started ringing his stuff up with mine and putting it in my bag. I responded by declaring, "No, he's not my husband." WHAT?!?!?!?!?!??!?!!? That doesn't even make any sense!!! Awkwardness ensued and I kept my eyes on the floor and hurried out of the store with my bag 'o' shirts. Seriously, I should be kept in a basement somewhere.