This morning I got the privilege of standing directly in front of the most annoying couple on the F train. No, make that the Most Annoying Girlfriend on the F train. It all started at Jay Street/Borough Hall when seats opened up, she grabbed the two by the door and in her loud, over-aggressive voice instructed him to SIT DOWN SIT DOWN, HURRY! YOU'RE NOT ALLOWED TO HOLD SEATS ON THE SUBWAY! SOMEONE ELSE IS GOING TO GET IT! HURRY!!!!11!! My gut told me to just shoot her a look saying that she needed to promptly move her hand from the seat, or I was going to sit on it, and also take it down a notch before 9AM. But instead I looked at Boyfriend, who seems to me, paralyzed by embarrassment, but in reality is numb to this dictation. Regardless, he sits down and she piles her overstuffed bag on him, along with her water bottle. Because she is going to eat her cream cheese bagel and drink her coffee. But not before kissing his cheek, putting her head on his shoulder, and poking him in the side an upwards of five times. I open my magazine in an attempt to read a civilized article, but am distracted when Girlfriend starts trying to FEED him her cream cheese bagel. Hand-to-mouth style. (surprise) He doesn't want it. Then she goes on about her point of view (obviously the right point of view) on something irrelevant. She has one of those voices just comes off unintelligent. Not one I would want to listen to for the rest of my life, which is obviously what Boyfriend is going to do since he is alternating holding her coffee, then her water, then her bagel, then her coffee, then her water—clearly signs of abused puppy syndrome in which seemingly full of potential men get beat down so low that they have no energy left to look anything but flaccid, pasty versions of their former selves.
Then I got a seat. Things were looking up.
Until she finished her bagel, put the remains back in her paper deli bag, and put the bag under. her. seat. on. the. floor. She was littering. Right in front of me and everyone else on the train completely oblivious to what was happening. Again, I looked at Boyfriend in shock and horror. He looked back in surrender. It was more than my heart could handle at that hour, so I switched trains.
These types of relationships baffle me. The rest of the ride I thought about how you could "love" someone so much that you would subject yourself to holding a pink satchel and being force fed a densely cream cheesed bagel in public. Was it that awful being single? Were you just at that age where you needed to couple off to avoid the pangs of attending weddings alone? I could go on, but instead I exited the station and briskly walked the one block to my building.
But not before a well-dressed man "rapping" aloud passed me, shouted "YOU'RE NOT GETTING FUCKED TONIGHT!," lifted his leg up and pelvic thrusted in my direction.