Another Open Letter

Dear Park Slope couples who take the train to their jobs in Manhattan,

Hi, how are you? We've met, you and I. I see you every day on the train, you get on a few stops before me. You two are usually freshly out of the shower; maybe you took one together (too cute!) you like to talk about TV shows and what's hip to talk about today in the news "Did you read the article about the protests against Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdogan? And what was up with Melinda Doolittle's hair last night on AI?" and maybe you have just moved in together so things are still exciting and new and fun. Go ahead, tug playfully at your partner's hair. That's so adorable.

When it is time to part, sometimes dramatically at the transfer hub of Jay street, you give each other a little kiss. So sweet. Or maybe it's at Broadway-Lafayette where there are more crowds in which to rush you away from your partner with nothing but a wave-kiss. Oh no, will they ever meet again?

So, here's the thing. It's really getting tired. This morning some blond girl was playfully yet seriously wiping dandruff off of her partner's suit. That's just gross. What's next, picking nits out of his hair then eating them? Then there's the one girl last week who was rubbing her boyfriend's back while trying to cheer him up with funny faces. He just kept rolling his eyes. I don't need to watch the messy aftermath of a morning fight, kids. I haven't even had coffee yet.

So here's the thing. It's cool that you are beautiful and stylish and have good yet conveniently creative jobs which means you are not that much of a sell-out and you live in Park Slope and your shopping bags are made out of environmentally friendly hemp weave and Al Gore is your hero. I don't care. And you're in love or at least you like each other a whole lot. But just please, please... the packed subway at 8am is not the time to be a cute couple. Just grab the pole, read your Metro and look as bored as possible. We'll get along fine.

Yours,

Tempy