OK, so you are in the
cinema. The
film's not worth watching. The
movie house is full.
What the hell, you are sitting next to your
beloved who is looking mighty tasty. Your
bloodstream is awash with
hormones. So, you
snog. You
kiss. You chew on each other a little. You get your legs into an
octopus tangle and
let your hands wander and walk and
squeeze all the squeezy bits. You
murmur and
giggle and make little squeaky sounds. You gasp and growl, and you snog some more.
Don't do this when you are sitting right next to me.
Do this somewhere else. At least go and sit in another row. You are ruining my day. I don't care if you are
madly in love and
lust and live at home in a
bedsit full of parents and siblings. I don't want you snogging three inches away from my nose.
Go away. I don't care if you are
Romeo and Juliet, and this is the last snog before the
funeral.
Go and find a dark corner where you won't bother other people. Make sure that there's a few feet of clear space between your entwined bodies and the rest of the public, ok?
There are oceans of difference between kissing in public and kissing so damn close to me I can smell your toothpaste.
(Yes, I have a relationship worth flaunting. Yes,
I like kissing. Oh, kissing is delicious. Yes I am getting some, thank you.)
Holding hands and looking blissed out after a whole sleepless night of delight is one thing, but I had to stand on the tube as a pair of
euro-tourists writhed and wriggled and smooched so damn close to me they were practically sitting in my lap. This is against
the rules. I hadn't even had any coffee yet.
And I'd react in the same way if you were
chewing gum with your mouth open.