|I'm with you, O. WTH?|
I suppose it's because I didn't grow up in a PDA household. My parents, while affectionate, never put their love on display for the whole world (or me) to see. I guess I learned from them that a genuine relationship or marriage is a grown-up partnership rather a constant simulation of a teenage love affair.
The average person walking around is not terribly attractive. Sorry, but it's true. Now since water settles at its own level it's safe to say that this person will be in love or like with a similarly homely individual. While I think that it's great that the two of them found each other I don't want to be subjected slobbery kisses, groping of jiggly (or non-existent) parts and/or extended eye contact with Thriller eyes.
If you ask my exes or even women with whom I've been "friends," PDA is something that can get your feelings hurt with me. Try to interlace your fingers with mine while we walk; my hand will go limp and drift away from yours. Putting your hand in my back pocket is a fail because I keep shit back there at all times... and I actually have a butt. I've never had a scarf in my wardrobe so you can imagine the reaction you'll get from trying to hang yourself around my neck.
It's just not for me. I had an ex-girlfriend in college who was the same way-- a mirror, if you will. She wasn't touchy-feely either, and even though we often occupied the same public spaces-- like the student union or the library or Applebee's during late-night happy hour-- it took people a long time and a lot of guessing to figure out that we even had a thing going on. Jay-Z, Beyonce shit. It became a game of sorts, one we thoroughly enjoyed, and a way of strengthening our bond rather than selling a million tickets to the show.
I don't mind a stolen kiss or a terrorist fist bump every now and then, but people who look like Siamese twins make me wonder what's truly valued in modern love and relationships-- image or substance.