Okay, fair warning here. If you’re a couple-y couple you might want to turn away. This will be harsh.

So I’m having a very pleasant morning. On my way to London. Flying Ryanair so you can imagine the usual stresses but overall it’s been quite an uneventful experience. So far. That is until I take my seat. The ones beside me are empty. Woah horsey. Don’t get too excited. This cattle freight is unlikely not to be packed to the brim. Soon the giddy tones of my fellow seat companions reach me as they make their way down the aisle. Excited and full of beans, they squeeze in beside me. Fine. I’m on the outside so at least I’m not trapped by a couple. I take my magazine and start flicking through it.

But their presence cannot be ignored. There’s hand holding and neck nuzzling. There’s the baby voice chuckling between them. There’s the endless questions of what will do when we arrive. Oh where should we go? Let’s go here, no here. Giggle giggle. You choose. No you choose. Oh for fucks sake, make a bloody plan.

Okay… Okay… I’m being a scrooge now. They’re clearly on holidays. Fine. But why the incessant hand holding? Why the constant in your face displays of affection? I know what you’re thinking? You’re deprived, Ciara. You need a man and clearly some loving so you won’t be jealous of other happy couples! But you’d be wrong. I am in a happy couple. And we are affectionate. I am seriously affectionate person. I love it. My other half is more the time and place person but I do get a kick out of kissing him in public while he doth protest too much.

But there’s something about overt displays of affection that really gets my goat. I’m talking the non stop touching. The breathing in of each other’s air as though your lungs depends on it. The ‘if I don’t have some part of my body constantly touching you I… will… die’. 

Okay now she has her head in his lap ….

I feel bad… maybe she’s sick? Maybe she’s extremely tired…. Hmm! The flight is an hour and wasn’t that early. Nope, she’s needy. OH GOD I said it. I swear, I heard her twenty minutes ago saying ‘Don’t listen to music, talk to me!’

Ah the cord has been struck. There is it…..

Talk to me!

I remember many a time being out with a boyfriend (not my current one) and him taking out the newspaper. And my immediate feeling of being alone. We were together, having lunch or coffee, but him choosing to read the newspaper meant I was cut out. Or I was no longer the focus of his attention. And I wasn’t prepared for that. Both physically and emotionally. I yearned for that constant attention and affection and he didn’t. But now it is different. I’m different. I’m older and more independent. And while I enjoy affection and yes, sometimes crave it, I’m not surviving on it.

Dare I say, I’m happy in my own space.

Oww I sound like an ass!

But honestly, that’s what it feels like. These people can’t enjoy their own space. You can be in a loving couple and enjoy each other and the physical side of affection without drowning in it. Or worse, suffocating us in it.

She’s awake now. They’re hugging. Non stop. As though they’ve just been reunited after years apart. Years in war torn countries, fighting for their love and this one simple act…. to be reunited. He’s kissing her face and her shoulder. Kissing as though it’s the first time

Oh sweet jebus….!

Get a room you two! Or next time, take the fucking boat.

Many thanks to JD Mason from UnSplash.com for the wonderful photo.

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