This weekend was glorious weather in Brooklyn (in a week that started with a huge snowstorm), and spring was quickening in every living thing, and you know what that means. Yes, couples everywhere--girls leaning back against their boyfriends on stoops, couples lingering over the Times in coffee shop windows, pairs of happy humans sauntering hand-in-hand along the sidewalks and pausing to canoodle on street corners, and drunk couples giggling and falling against each other on the streets into the wee small hours. I didn't go to the park, but I'm sure it was lousy with cheery boyfriends and girlfriends.
I'm ashamed to say I found it quite overwhelming. Normally I'm a sort of benevolent spinster in the face of all this couply sweetness. But it was just everywhere you looked this weekend, and I had to restrain myself from hissing at the couples shuffling along with agonizing slowness, eyes locked on one another, and all wandering hands.
Who me? Bitter? Heavens no.
Who me? Bitter? Heavens no.
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