You know those horrifyingly happy couples you sometimes see beside you on the subway, lovingly pecking at each other, sharing saliva like it were the last bit of oxygen in a drowning Pontiac, licking cheese-dripping sweet nothings into each others' ears and linguistically regressing into baby-talk..?
Well, there's a name for those in Japanese. They're called 'Baccapuru' which translates to 'stupid couple' and means loosely Inappropriate-Maker-Outer-in-Public couple.
I've spent most of my life staunchly advocating the eradication of such defilers of personal space, relying on my omnipotent interpretations of the Constitution to protect those of us citizens in no (or less-than-ideal) relationships from these disgusting Baccapurus.
How, then, can I justify having spent my last month in Japan, involved in such criminal indecency? What do I have to say for having made old Japanese women bump into walls because they couldn't scrape their eyeballs from the foreign sex-ed course at the stoplight? What tasks is Lucifer creating for me for having forced a family to move to the other side of the train to shelter the eyes of the innocent? What can I say to the Lonely who, upon seeing us, plunged deeper into loneliness?
I'm tempted to say "I'm sorry. I'll keep it behind closed doors from now on." But - no - I say
*Warning: The following statement is not suitable for those accustomed to the jaded humour characteristic of Up the Creek without a Platypus:
Life is too short and love too precious to waste even a moment.
Ooohh. Just typing such a cliche sent shivers through me. Someone toss me a mop for the sappiness and then a rope. I've fallen and I can't get up!