Public displays of affection get kabashed

By Kylie Jane Wakefield
Collegian Editor
January 24, 2007

Lips smacking against a cheek. The wetness of her mouth against his warm skin. Parading her love around in public. The room seems to go silent, for all I hear is the sound of affection.

It disgusts me.

I look to my right and see a mother holding her 5-year-old son in her lap. The kid has greasy, scruffy hair and two front teeth missing. I’ve never seen such a grotesque-looking child. His mother kisses him over and over, each time her lips making a louder smacking noise. Each sound made my migraine gets worse and worse. She persists 30 more times, letting the child know how loved he is, despite his unusual looks. She strokes his oedipal ego, making sure he is forever to be stuck in the oral stage. When he’s 30 and sitting in a therapist’s office because he has troubles with women, the shrink will ask him the root of his problems. It will be concluded that he is a momma’s boy.

I hate such public displays of affection (PDA). There is nothing worse than projecting your emotional tendencies before the world, subjecting others to the painful sight of your fondness for another. Some see a kissing couple and think, “aw, how sweet, lovebirds.” Then little rainbows pop out of the sky and puppies can suddenly fly. The world is a magical, happy-go-lucky place where PDAers everywhere can feel free to showcase their innermost feelings.

I’m not entirely bitter, no, that’s not the reason for my disdain. But even when I have the opportunity to participate in this distasteful deed, I rarely hop at the chance. On the PDA level of grossness, I may be at the one or two level when with a loved one, which involves minimal, but sufficient, contact. It’s a goal that everyone should strive for. The range from eight to 10 is something to worry about, for these people are the very lubby-dubby sickos we must fear in society. They parade their love around at any given moment – in restaurants, dark movie theaters or street corners everywhere. They pay no attention to the outside world; an aura of devotion to their loved ones blocks a “mortal soul” from breaking their PDA spells. When fueled by their witch magic of love, these high-level PDAers are a force not to be reckoned with.

Repeat offenders, especially when you may be acquainted with such people, are the worst. It’s hard to tell a friend that his or her showcase of affection is making you feel uncomfortable, alienated or just plain annoyed. But there is hope. Sometimes the only way to help your friend realize his or her crimes against humanity is an intervention. Sit down with your friend and tell him or her how you feel. If you suffer the effects of feeling like a third wheel, you cannot let your opinions go unsaid. Once everything is bottled up for too long, you may end up committing a public display of resentment (PDR) against your friend.

Those emotions, when exhibited out in the open, will only lead to embarrassment and shame on your behalf. Plus, it’ll turn into an eye-for-an-eye type of aggressive retaliation. And that’s no way to treat a friend, no matter how out of control his or her PDA may become.

It’s OK if you’re a recovering PDAholic and cannot suppress your feelings from the outside world. I understand. I have been down that road a couple of times. I know it’s tough, but strive to be a one or a two PDAer, my friends – or at least a four or five. I can only wish that one day society can be rid of this nonsense. But I’m not too much of a stickler; I know that it’s just human nature that causes us to act inappropriately from time to time. From a mother’s love for her child to a couple smothering each other in the streets, I’ve seen it all. Next time, though, be mindful of your fellow man, and please do us all a favor – keep your smoochies to yourself.

wakefieldk1@lasalle.edu