You know those people who “canoodle” in the hallways?
They seriously make me wish I had a stronger gag reflex.
And it’s really not that I hate love. I’m all for romance and everything like that – as long as you keep it to yourself.
I wasn’t always opposed to PDA. Troy and Gabriella from “High School Musical” were my go to fangirling topic in elementary school, followed closely by the star-crossed lovers of “Camp Rock,” Mitchie and Shane. Both couples broke into song every five seconds, all the time expresses their undying love for each other in front of large groups of people. That was never something I ever found disturbing.
With Indian Hills Middle School right around the corner, my chubby and bespeckled self was somehow under the impression that all teen romances were straight out of a Disney movie.
I was in for a rude awakening. Far from duet singing or serenading, the people who decided to display their love publicly seemed more partial to a nonverbal form of expression.
My first encounter of this was early into my seventh grade year: walking down the hallway towards my locker, innocent and optimistic- probably thinking about Harry Potter.
There they were. A girl with dyed, black hair and a boy wearing artfully torn skinny jeans were leaning right up against my locker, seemingly unaware that they were in public. As I turned away from them, their audible slurps and smacks echoed inside my mind.
I was appalled. And it wasn’t because I was unable to retrieve my communications folder.
My reaction was perfectly reasonable – I was blindsided by a tangle of tongues. I would just have to get used to it.
At East, it’s even more common to turn a corner and find people going at it in completely open areas. Even after more than three years of this, I still have not completely warmed up to the notion of public affection.
I still recoil at the sight of the sweaty hand holding, awkwardly long hugs, and the closeness that seems a bit much for the public eye.
Despite Disney telling me otherwise, the reality of teenage relationships is uncomfortable and, to be honest, extremely disgusting to witness.
So unless couples of East decide to parade their passion about by singing “You Are The Music In Me”, I will continue to suppress the urge to vomit everytime I see them.