As you stimulate your route onto the train realizing the only place for you is conveniently sandwiched between two pairs of people you sigh.
There’s nothing worse than being stuckon this overcrowded, overheated train.
But oh, my friend, there is something worse. There is.
As you turn around, sweat dripping down your forehead( which, by the way, is also pounding from a HELLISHmigraine because you haven’t had your Starbucks yet ), you find yourself up-close-and-personal with a couple making out, tongues wagging and all.
They’re so in your face, you can practically taste the girl’s lipstick. That’s definitely Kat Von D , you think.
What a morning. You haven’t even been awake for two hours, and you’ve already snaggeda front-row seat to a present called, “Let’s See Who Can Slobber Over Whom More.”
Look, I get it. That’s always a lot to take in , especially at 8 a. m. in the damn morning. It’s downright unacceptable. And , no, you shouldn’t have to deal with it.
Now, of course, there are different levels of PDA. An innocent hand-hold, a waist-grab, a wipe off the corner of your SO’s mouth those are all fine.
What I’m talking about is the full-on make out conference you wish you could unsee, but is unfortunately permanently ingrained in your memory.
Of all the public make out sessions I’ve ever seen, that wasone I’ll never forget.
First of all, I only don’t want to see that. Maintain it in your pants, for Christ’s sake. That’s what home is for.
I often try to set myself in a couple’s shoes, only torealize that , no matter who I was dating in the past or how much I liked him, I always felt squeamishly uncomfortable doing things with him in public.
Second, it’s already known that couples who post lovey-dovey relationship status on Facebook are wildly insecure, so I can’t assistance but wonder that two people sucking face in my face are ruining my train ride because they’re insecure.
No, seriously. Sometimes, I notice the girl of the pair eyeing me down before she makes the executive heads decision to turn to her boyfriend and lick his whole face.( And no, I’m not a sneak. I’m only hyperaware of my surrounds .)
Listen, homie. I don’t want your human, but I guess I’m flattered you consider me a threat.
Third, I need to remind all PD-Aabusing couples of the world that the public space isn’t just your space to make out in. It’s our space, too.
And when I say “our, ” I entail ussingle people of the world who don’t have anyone to slobber all over.Ourlives are hard enough.
Here’s the catch, though: I can never not look at PDA.
I don’t know what it is about it. It has some weird, mystic, magnetic power that induces everything in its radius gravitate toward it, but then immediately pull away.
It isn’t so much the people, themselves, who draw me in. It’s the making out part.It’s unnatural, but captivating.
It’s like find the aftermath of a automobile crash, watching a dog trying to walk on its hind leg, or sitting in a movie theatre and encompassing your eyes at the scary proportions( but low-key watchingthrough the gaps between your thumbs ).
Whatever. It’s not like I’m butt-hurt by the lives of those particular couples. I surely do not want any part of that kissingsesh.
I’m just asking for some common courtesy here. Someone’s got to stand up for the single people of the world. And, as usual, I’m willing to take the fall.
One day, when Sheena finally has a boyfriend( LOL, it feels weird to throw“Sheena” and “boyfriend” in the same sentence ), she will exact sweet, sweet revenge on all the couples who stimulated her already-sucky commute even suckier than it needed to be.
She will stick her tongue down her guy’sthroat. And it will be glorious.
Until then, I’ll take my coffee and commute without a side of slobber. Please and thank you.