Last weekend, post a good friend’s housewarming soiree, I made my way, with best guy friend, and some others, to a club that had all the trappings of a chic one, and looked guaranteed to give us all an evening of spirited dances.
That we cut short our intended time there, cos of someone’s unexpected appearance there, is true, but then, that’s altogether a different story.
The time was an hour and a half past midnight, and none assembled there looked as if they would be calling it a day soon.
The DJ was rolling out pretty decent fare, the swish crowd whirled and gyrated without missing a step; even those who looked as if they had previously professed their two left-feet with certitude, were doing more than a decent job, swinging to the thumping beats. The psychedelic lights and crystal balls shone criss-cross patterns on the people, floor, ceiling, and walls alike.
Drinks of various shades were doing the rounds. Twirling smoke ensured that no one forgot to give the ubiquitous cigarette its due. The DJ, casting a look around him, had a pleased as Punch expression on his face that the crowd was happily swaying to his music, and cranked up the volume…
That’s when I saw them.
Unmistakably in their mid-twenties (despite the weak attempts to ape their teeny-bopper, college-going siblings – both in their attire as well as their attitudes), they did not look misfits in the crowd, but definitely stood out (and not in a flattering way).
Now I am no prude, but even I did have to admit – the girl outfitted in a skirt that could only be called a butt-helmet was definitely getting eye-ball grabbing attention. Of the lewd kinds. She had understandably started looking pretty uneasy. Her constant inane giggling, and high-pitched shriek, probably brought on by a drink too many, ensured that those near her, did enough staring / glaring / pointing / sniggering. Her partner, not to be outdone, was dressed the part. Hair spiked like needles of the mint-green American grass that my Mom is so fond of, in a spandex / lycra (I dunno which) torso-hugging Tee that looked:
a) as it would burst at the seams any moment, thus exposing his much-sweated-it-out-tirelessly-in-the-gym-rippling/bulging-muscles any moment
b) as it had been stitched onto him
A typical bling-bling couple, his chunky leather wristband, and what looked like a steel dog-chain around his neck, ofered stiff competition to her bracelets, and other extremely loud fusion jewelry (all of which looked like the work of a shopping spree gone completely awry)(Gosh,even I admit I'm getting mean here). It was hard not to miss their gleaming white shoes (she in her stilettoed version; he in his pointy-alligator slip-ons - Aaaaargh). Hey neon-pink (or was it fuschia pink) tote completed her assembled outfit. I wouldn't have been surprised to see them wearing matching Police and Gucci glares. Had it not been night, I'm sure they would have painstakingly co-ordinated those too. I wish they had taken time out to cast a long, hard, critical look at each other before venturing out for the night.
I did a Heimlich, and cast many a covert look at them, more so cos his tongue seemed to be almost down her throat, gagging her. She didn't look choked though - just had this happy, albeit glazed look plastered over her painted face. Their fervent liplocking didn’t look anything like those beautifully-shot Hollywood-exchange-of-kisses-at-the-altar-post-the-marriage-vows, but more like an exercise of tongues playing tonsils of death.
Ouch! They seemed to be one of those couples who stick to each other like conjoined twins. Come what may. (Shudder).
You see them everywhere.
On the roads.
In the neighborhood park.
At restaurants.
At roadside bistros.
In the malls that seem to be mushrooming a dime a dozen everyday.
In cyber cafes.
You name it.
Heck, even in theaters. When all that you wanna watch is the movie being filmed, but you are denied such simple pleasures, and have to shift your attention elsewhere. Courtesy – the two moaning machines seated in the same row as you and your friend(s), and who, despite your constant “Tsk tsk, tch tchs, ” sarcastic words, pleadings, and threats (in ascending order), seem to be really getting it on, some six seats away from you). Quite a nauseating / obnoxious sight, believe me, dahlins...
This particular genre / breed of couple swear by PDA, and its obvious attention-grabbing nature.
They inevitably make an appearance when you least expect them to, and make certain that they don’t leave, without first administering some choice “sights” to your shocked beyond belief peepers, and garnering gasps from you.
The lovey-dovey small sights that are a given with lost-in-love-cootchie-cooing couples, does not exist for them.
So if you are thinking of couples walking hand-in-hand, looking mooningly / longingly at each other, sighing, a gentle tap on the back – dude! It’s time for you to wake up and smell the coffee beans.
Now I’m not averse to a quick hug and some clandestine footsie under the table myself, but these people insist on taking it a couple of steps further.
Going on to publicly espouse groping, kissing, nudging suggestively, sticking tongues into each others mouths (gross), a case of the Octopus-touchy-feely-syndrome-in-overdrive – the works.
Some would call them gross exhibitionists. Others call them desperate. Undoubtedly such surgically-inseparable couples invite leering comments from others, to the tune of, “guys, why don’t both do us all a favor, and get yourselves a room? We’ll pick the tab, if we must.”
To which they promptly react / work upon by leaving that place, and seek "refuge" in each others arms, elsewhere. Sigh!
The self-righteous arch those perfect eyebrows, twitch their noses, click their tongues disapprovingly.
The elders may frown all the more sternly.
The less tolerant would spout abuses / snarl / sneer.
The rest will just look on vicariously, getting thrills and kicks from such “steamy” couples.
But this particular breed will not take hints, and continue with what most people do clandestinely, behind closed doors, out in the public.
Some people will never cease to invite our censure.
May their tribe peter out.
Amen.
