L’amour. Ahavah. Amor Prohibido. However you say it, love is perhaps the most widely written and sung about topics in the world. It can make you so happy it brings you up above the clouds. It can bring you deep down to the depths of despair in its moments of cruelty and hopelessness. Wherever love takes you, there is one place it should never, never, ever go:
Right in front of my face.
I may not be the most chipper of people (you may have heard I have a blog about hating stuff), but I usually don’t show open disgust with complete strangers. This etiquette goes out the window when two people are sucking on each other’s mouths a foot from my eyes. My rage and disapproval is impossible to hide, as I make the obligatory, “Augh” noise and turn my head. What difference does it make? They can’t see or hear me anyway. They are in their own land of overt affection, and everyone around them has been forced into temporary citizenship until we cross the street/get off the subway/run screaming in the other direction.
A peck here, a hand hold there - sure! I’m fine with some light PDA. I understand the need to express love sometimes when you happen to be around others. What I do not understand is camping out on a street corner for several minutes at a time, licking someone else’s face as good citizens try to walk by you without vomiting. Sometimes I want to stop and ask, “Don’t you have anywhere to go? Do you live somewhere? May I help you with some directions?” Surely there’s somewhere else you can be eating that young lady’s face off.
Most often this is a street or subway offense, but I have even been on an elevator with couples who are making out profusely, leaving me to cower in the corner in disgust, praying for the laws of physics and the Gods of elevator engines to make us go faster. I am literally trapped with the hideous slurps and smacks, strongly considering jamming a pen from my purse into my eyes and ears to escape.
What does one do in these situations? I suppose the street is easy enough - you just walk by as quickly as possible. Maybe a “Get a room!” shouted over your shoulder. I try to do my “Augh” as loudly and closely as possible to the couple, in hopes they get the hint. On the subway, there’s a certain pleasure one gets from sharing the hatred with other people - undoubtedly, there’s a gruff middle aged woman or an angry old man who is already making The Face of Disgust by the time you spot the offending couple. Then you can join them in eye rolling, scootching away from the nasty pair, and maybe make a collective, “Augh” that will alert the couple to their public crime. If you’re lucky, there’s a sassy gay or loud young woman in the vicinity, willing to give a loud, “God I hate it when people are all over each other like this” announcement to the whole subway car. Teamwork!
The worst is when you are all alone with no escape. The nightmare where you want to run but your legs don’t work is suddenly a reality! I suppose there are some people with personalities that might make it easy to confront the a-holes with a, “Could you bastards close your mouths until I can escape this elevator, unless you want to step out around my pool of vomit?” Or perhaps a more polite, “Do you think you could wait until you’re alone to do that?“ But unfortunately I’m pretty non-confrontational (you may have heard I have a blog about hating stuff). So for me and those like me, there is no recourse but to look the other direction, make a few awkward coughs, and take a deep breath until you are able to get away. And then take your fury to the internet.