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Room for Squares

Recently, I asked myself: “What better place could there be to take advantage of this nice weather we’re having than Dolores Park?” So I packed my picnic basket and blanket and headed on out for what I thought would’ve been a pleasant spring afternoon in the park. I didn’t expect to end up feeling like I needed to take a post coital shower.

Man, there must be something about the bright, sunny days of spring that turns everyone into a homemade porn star. I’ll admit that as a whole, we aren’t exactly the most restrained or conservative of communities, so I can’t say I was entirely surprised. I mean, one look inside any bathroom stall ten minutes after last call will tell you that. But is it just me, or is there a disproportionately large amount of P.D.A.’s during this time of year?

I tell you, I wasn’t even done crossing my legs yet on my new checkered picnic blanket before I saw not one, not two, but three couples near me who were, how do I say this delicately…a little too enthusiastic in their appreciation of one another other. Okay, maybe they weren’t exactly having full on, balls out sex, but c’mon, even the most liberal minded, least squeamish of us can stomach only so much of the springtime, lover P.D.A. that seems to infect those sadly susceptible few.

Before I continue, I’d like to say that if you want to hold hands with your honey in public, go ahead. Holding hands is sweet and can even be cute…sometimes. Nobody should complain. I’d even go so far as to say that public canoodling (of the non body grinding variety) is acceptable, depending on the circumstances (usually limited to movie theatres and backseat make out spots). I mean, far be it from me to deprive anyone of their right to assemble, bear arms, suck face, whatever. But c’mon, full on Ultimate Fighting leg wrestling in a family park? On a Sunday? That’s a little too much, even for me.

I don’t mean to sound like a prude (even if that’s what I am) but somewhere along the way someone has to exhibit some level of decorum if we’re to demand respect for our so-called respectable lifestyles. Don’t get me wrong. In my scorn for the homosexual P.D.A., I am in no way championing heterosexual public displays of affection either. Those are just as bad, if not worse. I guess you could say I’m an equal opportunity condemner.

What I’m merely trying to say is that, the next time you’re out with your boyfriend and/or girlfriend, spare a little thought for that lonely stranger sitting behind you, who might not be as enthused with your little game of “pin the hickey on the nearest donkey” as you are. Perhaps that’s what bothers me most about p.d.a.’s. The way couples seem to be showing each other off. It’s so wrong, so mean. Sort of an NC-17 way of proclaiming “Look Ma, no hands!”

Contrary to the belief of star crossed lovers everywhere, there are, in fact, other people in your vicinity. They are the ones straining their necks to see behind you at the cinema. They are the ones who are trying to have their picnics and smoked Gouda in peace. And they, unlike you, have their gag reflexes still in tact.