Just before rush hour at the Starbucks I visit every day now at around 7:30 I saw this youngish couple at one of the cast iron tables outside still dressed in pajamas, they’ve got foodstuff and cups between them, and as I’m waiting in line, kinda just watching them with half an eye, I see the woman suddenly fix her partner with a squinty urgent stare, stand up, go slowly around the table with her shoulders high, like a cat on high alert, and then sit in her boyfriend’s lap, kinda straddling him, so that she can now go all in, with laser focus, on pressing into his forehead pimple with her thumbs.

The pimple’s apparently a tough one (something not to be fucked with) because over the next 45 seconds I watch her own brow furrowing tighter and tighter as she twists about, re-positions her thumbs, her elbows wheeling into different angles and smearing her fingers all over his face. It looks painful, or at least uncomfortable, but the dude’s just sitting there totally unbothered, coffee in his hand, staring off, waiting.

Seems like kind of an intimate thing to be doing in public — a restaurant, no less — but it also seems very much like a couple’s thing. Repulsive, but charming. 

I guess my point is that you can abhor a behavior while at the same time admire the headspace behind it. Or portions of that headspace. Ahdunno. Just seemed like a scene worth mentioning. And I think there’s something going on with me that it’s stayed in my head for days.

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