I don’t like to think of myself as an overly cynical individual. In fact, I consider myself an optimist with a strong aptitude for sarcasm. But there is one (actually many, but I’m getting ahead of myself) thing in this world that truly grinds my gears. It brings forth the deepest, darkest parts of myself that make me seriously consider a career in villainy. That thing is PDA.

PDA stands for “public displays of affection,” and if you’re anything like me, you’re wondering why it isn’t PDOA. I mean, who decided that the “o” for “of” was unnecessary and redundant? Did this powerful individual have a personal vendetta against the word “of” or did they simply believe prepositions such as “of” weren’t worthy of standing on their own?

If it is in fact the latter, I feel horribly for these poor underdogs of the dictionary and I would like to take this moment to personally apologize to you on behalf of word users everywhere. Though we may not always show it, we are wildly aware that the English language and civilization as a whole would inevitably crumble without you.

Now that I have proven my compassion as a human being through my defense of undervalued words, I would like to express my strong aversion towards PDA.

It all began in my youth when I would be walking to class and get stuck behind the “lovey dovey” couple who held each other close as they couldn’t bear the thought of spending the next fifty minutes without each other. This would happen every single day and I found it incredibly infuriating for three reasons:

  1. I was already overwhelmingly aware of how single I was and didn’t need them rubbing it in (and against me).
  2. They blocked the doorway and I was far too awkward to maneuver around them so I’d end up looking like a stage five creeper standing there watching them as Mission Impossible music echoed through the speakers telling us to get to class. (The Mission Impossible music played every single morning for four years. Every single morning.)
  3. Feeling the need to make a spectacle of your undying “love” every five seconds is downright ridiculous and will successfully tick off every single person in your general vicinity.

Yes, I understand that it’s young love and it’s new and exciting and your love isn’t real unless you show it to the world, but this PDA business didn’t end in high school, nor did my awkwardness.

The other day I was leaving the gym and was in a relatively good mood due partly to the endorphins, but mostly because I had a cupcake waiting for me at home. Then, just as I was approaching the stairs, I came face to face with a couple who was all smiles and holding hands whilst walking up the stairs. They seemed really happy and quite frankly, I was happy for them. (See? I’m not a cynic!)

So I paused at the top of the stairs a moment and watched as they headed towards the washrooms. That’s when it happened. As they approached the entrance ways of their respected gender destinations, they leaned in to one another and kissed before parting ways.

ARE YOU KIDDING ME? Are you really that in love that you can’t stand the thought of an estimated 2.35 minutes without each other? Or are you genuinely afraid that one and/or both of you will get sucked into the toilet and never return, thus making it imperative that you have one final kiss? I really hope the reason for this nonsense was the second one because the first reason just makes me want to cry for humanity.

I understand there is a slight chance I am ignorant to the acts of love as being the president of Singles “R” Us has kept me rather busy over the years, but I am happy (most of the time) for all the happy couples out there in the world and would even go as far as to say that they give me hope. You’re in love? Great! I just don’t want to see it while I’m eating a pimped out ice cream cone on the sidewalk by myself.

So, in some unforeseen amount of time, if the opposite sex begins to find me attractive in some kind of non-ironic way and I find myself in one of these head-over-heels romances, I shall vow here to never engage in such acts of PDA, and if you should ever find me breaking this vow then—well—give me a break because I listened to Mission Impossible music for four years straight so I deserve this.