Quit PDA-ing Up in My Grill

The other day I was doing some work in one of those coffee joints where everyone shares tables – I mean you can’t get much more cosmo than that. The creatives, student’s, musos, pensioners and wanderers all bunged together seeking warmth and caffeine. I nabbed a brilliant cosy corner where there was even a potted plant on my table. How kitsch I thought.

Anyway, I was completely minding my own business when I became distracted by this couple, who were sharing the table space in front of me. She was crying, he was nuzzling, she was pushing him away, he was getting angry, she was getting very angry, he was begging forgiveness, she was stroking his hair – I mean, there was some emotional shit going on man. It was all very theatrical. I was actually getting quite emotionally involved. There I was expecting a chilled writing session only to find myself getting a front row seat at this mini ammature dramatics show. It was all rather enthralling, that was UNTIL they started making out….

Can I just say… ohhh… myyy…goodness… they just didn’t stop. Or come up for air for like five whole minutes. Am-drams had turned into Snogathon – in 3D. And as the kissing continued I began to feel increasingly uncomfortable. I even put my headphones on to drown out the hideous slippy-slappy noises but to no avail. O they are backing down. I can take my headphones offf… oh wait. Is that? Yup, okay now I can see their tongues. My stomach began to contract and I actually felt like throwing up. In fact I did throw up – in my own mouth. Disgusting. I have never had a physical reaction quite like it. Maybe I was allergic to Public Displays of Affection (also known as PDA)?

I desperatly looked for a way out. I wanted to run. But my stubborn streak interjected: Why the hell should I move? I had already fought hard to get this perfect spot.

After about 15 minutes it became a bit ridiculous. As I turned up The Dead Weather on my Ipod, I began to ponder whether this was karma? Maybe I was being punished for my own teenage PDA. But that’s not fair – my ex-boyfriend and I were kids. We didn’t know what we were doing. I blame youth. And summer. And The O.C.

What was this couples excuse? Coffee with a shot of testosterone? A crumpet with butter and libido? Spring? The temperature? The jazz? It was a weekday at two in the afternoon. They both looked over 21. Can I just say: THEY HAD NO EXCUSE. I felt like pushing the plant pot aside reaching over and giving them a slap: What is wrong with you people?

Was it just me? Was I the only one annoyed by this?

I was chatting to my friend, let’s call her Courtney, purely because she’s American and I think Courtney’s quite an American sounding name, who was telling me about one of her traumatic experiences with OTT (Over The Top) PDA:

 ‘Owww myy gawwwwsh, I was once nearr this fountain trying to have maa lunch break when this here couple were doing everything other than ‘it’ – if you get what I’m saying’.

I got what she was saying. (I should tell you Courtney also has a delicious Mid-Western twang which made the account even more engrossing). Her story got me thinking: evidently PDA was at international problem. People snogging and slobbering all over the place – think of the health risks for the rest of us! For a split second I contemplated moving to Saudi Arabia. 

If there is anything worse than being confronted by a couple engaging in PDA, it’s being in a tight, confined space with a couple engaging in PDA. I was on a busy tube the other day and this couple were actually LEANING in to me. The carriage was so packed I couldn’t even escape, and I was stuck clinging the rail with one hand and niftily trying to use my Evening Standard as a partition in the other. I mean where is the common curtsy? Their saliva doused flapping tongues were so close to my face I could have contaminated herpes.

I think people who engage in PDA should watch themselves on film and then analyse their behaviour under the supervision of a clinical psychologist. Maybe they don’t understand that making-out like guppy fish in public (when you are not under the influence of alcohol or in a nightclub – these are of course completely acceptable) is uncomfortable for EVERYONE ELSE on the planet. 

I think a good way to gage whether something is acceptable for public viewing is if you consider the rest of us as your extended family. Would you act like this in front of your great Aunt? Would you fornicate in front of your cousin? Would you caress your partner’s thigh like that in front of your sister-in-law? If the answer is ‘no’. Then save it for your own homes people. 

So I guess I want to end with the question: Why do people do it? Are you, dear reader, someone who engages in inappropriate Public Displays of Affection? And if yes, WHYYY? I have one request: quit PDA-ing up in my grill.

For the rest of us, peace and sick-bags be with you.

Have a great week peeps!

x

Tags: coffee shop Kissing London making out PDA Public Displays of Affection relationships society

Categories: Fire me up baby! Rant