Subway PDA PSA

There are many times and places where I do not want a boyfriend: where the joy of singledom rushes over me like...I don't know, some kind of refreshing, rushing body of water. New York City is a GREAT place to be single. You walk down the street with your arms mentally flung out (not actually flung out, because as much as you desire it, your life is not a musical, and you don't want to be that weird girl walking down the street with your arms flung out) and just soak up the glorious freedom and possibilities of the world.

Of course, there are other times and places, where you do in fact want a boyfriend: scary movies, weddings, lonely nights curled up on the couch, etc. To this list, I would like to add: The New York Subway System.

The Subway is apparently THE place to have a significant other and show him or her off. The subway is open to: cuddling, kissing, nuzzling, whispering and this strange public habit New Yorkers seem to have of untucking/re-tucking in their S.O.'s shirts (I have seen this behavior with three or four different couples now, where one person stands, leaning into the other, pulling the shirt out of the pants, then sticking it back in. This behavior is not particularly sexual in nature, but it is nonetheless a strange and scary epidemic).

I understand that the primary interaction between New Yorkers on the subway is the shared fantasy that no one else exists. Pretending to the point of making the subway your own little love nest, however, seems absurd. The blue or orange seats are not decadent, the bright track lighting is not romantic. And, more importantly, though everyone on the crowded subway is trying his/her best to keep eyes to his/herself, we can all see you!

Just so you know, you lustful little subway riders of New York.