New love is one of the most magical feelings in the world. It’s the time in a relationship when you can’t get enough of each other and you can’t keep your hands off of each other. It’s heartwarming to see two people so enthralled with each other that they’ve chosen to accept all their flaws and just enjoy each other’s company. It gives me hope that one day someone will be able to overlook my overbearing sarcasm, addiction to 90s TV sitcoms and the fact that I write about my sex life for the school paper.

But let’s draw the line — sending each other sweet text messages is cute (provided you don’t quote these text messages in your Facebook status), but kissing loudly in the SAC next to me when I’m trying to enjoy my egg sandwich is just plain rude.

I completely understand the thrill of getting busy in public, but there’s a new dimension added when there’s someone studying for a BIO 358 test a dozen feet away. There are better ways to deal with this than making me an unwilling participant of your exhibitionism fetish during my breakfast. Please have some consideration for your lonely Stony Brook peers.

It is my professional opinion that people engage in these sorts of behaviors, commonly referred to as PDA (Public Displays of Affection), to establish their mating territory. It is the metaphorical peeing all over someone to discouraging others from invading your territory, because literally peeing on your mate in public would cross a few legal lines as well as a few hygienic ones. By feverishly kissing and groping each other next to another student enjoying her morning sandwich is the equivalent of yelling, “Hey Sexwolf! This one is mine!”

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Seriously though, just get him a sticker for his shirt. It would be so much easier, and the sanctity of my sandwich would be preserved.

My friend in high school once subjected me to far more of this forced exhibitionism than I would have cared to experience. In the middle of an epic game of “Mario Kart,” she stopped to start kissing her boyfriend’s neck or ear. Maybe that’s why the egg sandwich incident upset me so much. I suffered from PDAD — Post Display of Affection Disorder.

Upon arrival to Stony Brook, I had high hopes that the excess of conservatism would keep my virgin eyes safe from these kinds of sights for some time. People who decided to get busy, for example on the couch where I work, did so after hours. I thought I was safe — until my breakfast sandwich was ruined that fateful morning at the hands of that selfish couple. As a result, they now they have an entire article dedicated to them.

Clearly the moral of the story is that until BEC stands for Boyfriend Engulfing Collarbone instead of Bacon Egg and Cheese, it is not part of a balanced breakfast.

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