April 28, 2015

Get A Room!

Last week, I had the pleasure of boarding a Ryanair flight (I am one of those delightful people that lambasts the airline on a daily basis and persists in funding their business). But the worst thing wasn’t the herding of passengers or ridiculous flight time; it was the allocated seating that led me to an enamoured young couple. Because I am unwilling to spend an extra fiver, I wound up mentally plotting my escape by banging my head through the glass window and escaping via parachute.

The duo in question deemed it appropriate to kiss on the mouth roughly twice a minute. I’m not talking pecks here, I mean long kisses; the ones that make an mmm sound. There was a brief interval where Boy did something to make Girl mad and prompted a furious stream of profanities (or so I believe, I think they were Spanish). Awkward as this was, I began to yearn for this situation when they returned to their smooching. Clearly an attempt to break some form of Guinness World Record. They made no effort to acknowledge my existence, not even offering me a Pringle when they decided to eat food instead of their own faces. Rude.

I’m not a conservative prude from a Jane Austen novel, nor do I think kissing in public is a heinous crime. But I do think there’s a limit. As a general rule, I try to avoid any behaviour that might make another person feel obligated to turn their head away from the carnage.

Kisses are OK, tongue is not.

Holding hands is OK, holding bums is not.

Hugging is OK, heavy petting is not.

These guidelines do not come from an embittered place. Contrary to the views of perpetrating couples, your exhibitionism does not make everyone go Aww! and congratulate Cupid for yet another miracle of love.

But surely we must just be jealous? Oh, nail on the head. Your arse groping makes us feel truly awful about ourselves and the lack of blatant indecency in our day-to-day existence. Some may argue that I just have anger issues and that a graphic public display of affection is as natural an act as breastfeeding. Sorry, no. Babies need to eat, your hormones can wait until you get home. Walls and a door, please!
If you are one of these offending face suckers, please be reminded that these are just my personal opinions. You are perfectly within your rights to express your passionate love in whatever manner you see fit. Just don’t sit next to me on a plane.