Remember how you used to make fun of those couples who walked down the street with their hands in each other’s back pockets?

That, and variations of that, still make some people uncomfortable.
And by people, I don’t mean those who have to witness it.
I mean the girls who have to ward off that type of PDA.
A few times, I, for one, had to sternly say, “Yo! Lobster fingers!” to a guy who would pinch my ass Every. Single. Time. I walked in front of him…in public…in daylight…on the street.
What’s wrong with holding hands at 1 p.m.??
My friend Jessica had to deal with someone like this recently, although her experience was a lot more annoying.
Brandon was this guy Jessica met at a bar where his rugby team was celebrating a win. 
They caught each other’s eye and started talking about his team, what she does, how long she’s lived in town and other spark-worthy topics.
After almost TWO HOURS talking and drinking, the team decided to move the party back to a nearby player’s house and pick up beer. Brandon invited Jessica.
“Please come,” he said. “It’s not that far! I really want to hang out with you some more!”
Jessica agreed excitedly and on the drive had thoughts of Brandon and his hot rugby body as her new boyfriend.
She got to the party where the team welcomed her and gave her a beer.
That’s when Brandon led Jessica into the living room, of NOT his house, and pulled her onto the couch and they started kissing. He was a good kisser and Jessica was enjoying herself.
“Do you want to give each other massages?” he asked.
“What? Here?” she said.
“Yea,” he said. “Turn around.”
Jessica pivoted on the couch, suddenly realizing that they were in someone else’s house on the couch and she felt kinda weird about it. And she really didn’t want some sort of sensual massage at that moment.
But she let him rub her shoulders as she made a joke or something and then (duh) he slipped down her spaghetti straps and kissed her neck.
Really. 10 seconds in.
She visibly shook him off, turning around and said, “hey, wait, people might walk in!”
She tried to act coy.
“I mean, I like you and all, but this would be really weird for someone to walk in and see,” Jessica said. She pulled up her straps.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said, kissing her neck again. His hands were close to her boobs this time and creeping up, and now she was in an even more embarrassingly compromising position.
She imagined the guy who lived there, or his girlfriend, walking in and seeing her top half off. She’d be so mortified.
“No, this isn’t the right…time,” Jessica said. “I don’t want to hook up with you on your friend’s couch when there are like 20 people outside who could walk in,” she said.
“Fine,” he said, almost mad.
“Well, I’m…gonna go then,” Jessica said, picking up her purse, waiting for him to protest.
He sat there in silence.
She stood there, waiting.
Bye,” the whiny a-hole said, staring straight ahead. He then let her walk out the door and to her car by herself.
Which, at least, was less embarrassing than being on that couch.

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