PDA: The Unwitting Threesome

A friend of mine just started seeing some guy, and they have been making out all over town, most notably at his friend’s birthday party.  Fortunately, this is by her own report; I haven’t yet been forced to bear witness to their newfound amour.  “Oh,” I said, disapprovingly, “You’re one of THOSE people.”  Is there anything more uncomfortable than being a bystander to a display of unbridled passion (also known as gross PDA)?

Hypocritically, we’ve all been perpetrators (and most likely enjoyed it while doing so; I’ve made out on my fair share of street corners, and I’m not saying I’m about to stop), but that doesn’t make the experience of being forced into voyeurism any more pleasant.  Still, your average passersby can just keep moving, and avoid the PG13 display (or gawk, if they choose).  It’s when it’s a good friend and her latest fling who you’ve just met that makes for a super awkward social situation.  Hell, it’s still weird (possibly weirder) if you’ve known both ends of the suckfacefest for years.  One of my best friends is unable to refrain from sharing lingering kisses with her live-in boyfriend when I’m over; watching is intrusive, and pretending my attention has suddenly been grabbed by something on the other side of the room seems hilariously prudish (and annoying to have to keep doing over the course of a visit.  She could at least hang a variety of interesting paintings on the wall or something, or leave some current magazines on the coffee table...maybe I'll start bringing my own?).

On another note, it’s entirely possible that I'm unnecessarily prejudiced against public displays of affection.  Back in high school, there was a distinct “reacher” and “settler” relationship (any How I Met Your Mother fans out there?) in my social circle -- the former is someone who dates out of their league ergo "reaches", and the latter is someone who "settles for less" by dating down.  He was constantly all over her in the cafeteria, and it got weird and possessive.  It’s hard not to associate that kind of highly public touching with territory marking and trophy-claiming...it brings to mind a poignant commercial from yesteryear (below).

Now I know I've said earlier (read: above) that I've had my fair share of public dalliances, but having an unhealthy addiction to Jane Austen novels and their celluloid adaptations, I think there's something to be said for delayed gratification.  Yes, I said delayed -- just try and tell me there isn’t something sexy about repressed passion.  The wait.  The wanting.  The mystique.  The willpower and control.  It’s like how covering up some skin is much more alluring than naked flesh.  I’m not saying we should all go back to corsets, gloves, and rigid social conventions (although a man who looks good in breeches and a top hat has a head start with me), but it would be nice to keep a little mystery and self-control when out in public.  After all, if you know you’re heading back to either his or your place, can’t you save the tongue-wrestling for later?  Because I think it's safe to say, on behalf of everyone: unless we've agreed to a threesome, leave me out of it.