I was there, you people. I witnessed it. If you haven’t watched love get killed dead, mercilessly smothered, stomped out, erased and given a strong kick into its next life, you’re still young and innocent in the cruel ways of the world.
This love didn’t see its death coming, nobody did. One minute it was skipping across meadows, holding hands with fairies and getting high on fairy dust and the next, weee wooo weee wooo it needed an ambulance.
Location: Coffeeshop. Mission: Observation. There I was, sitting one table way from a young, attractive couple, eavesdropping. To make my mission easier, I pretended to be reading a book (and because I’m almost always reading a book, it all came natural) .
First of all, context. I’m not a creep who goes to restaurants to watch random couples fall out of love with each other. What I am is the world’s biggest matchmaker. Shoving these two in each other’s amorous direction had been my project for a while. I was even getting ready to bill the girl (my services are not for free, please. Love costs money)
All was going well until silence descended, and we all know how dangerous silence is for budding romances. I was even considering tripping a waiter to give them something to talk about when the boy started chewing his cheeks. What? Yes. He started to munch the skin inside his left cheek. Eew. Why would somebody chew their cheeks? What level of hunger is that?
As if to counter his weirdness, she started, with a practiced hand to pluck her eyelashes off. She didn’t even seem to know what she was doing. Now she wasn’t tearing them out, no. she was methodically plucking, one by one. Twick! Twick! Twick! I was alarmed. My eyelashes had even started twitching in sympathy when a menu bearing waiter came and broke their party of disgustingness up.
After poring, ordering and sharing a few shy smiles, they realized that they had nothing to say to each other and so went back to showcasing their individual weirdness (es).
He kicked it off by tucking his tongue between his teeth and proceeding to chew it. Her reaction was indescribable. Rather, it’s too describable and I’m too lazy a writer to do it justice. She literally folded into her frame like a polythene bag on top of a sigiri. He was totally, happily oblivious until she started to blow air in and out of the gap between her teeth.
The waiter returned with the food and broke up their grossness party. Again.
As they ate, she began to do something that I had never, in my 10 years of knowing her witnessed. She started rubbing her belly. Now this rubbing wasn’t random. It coincided with every revolution of her jaw. So munch, rub, munch, rub. It was really very disturbing but not more than the loudness with which she swallowed her food. Such an audible swallower was she that people around their table started debating whether or not it was possible for a human being’s oesophagus to be too narrow for food.
How, I asked myself, did I know these absurd people? I’d just decided to withdraw my services and affections from the both of them and hightail it out of there when she recognized me and started to signal, “S.O.S” in that universally recognized way.
So I think it’s safe to assume that that love was crushed under the buttocks of bad etiquette. The moral of this story is: Don’t be gross.