A close encounter...read at your own risk...

I’m sorry, I have to tell this story. It is not for the faint of heart.
The other day in the Cougareat (BYU’s food court) I witnessed one of the strangest displays I have ever seen. As I sat eating my five-dollar footlong, there was at a nearby table a boy and girl who seemed to have never touched someone of the opposite sex before. They were adorably awkward They made quiet conversation for a while, sitting across the table from one another and I relished in the discomfort of it all. These ugly ducklings seemed to be turning into swans in one another’s eyes as they sat in the crowded student centers with their forgotten teriyaki bowls. It was sweet. Then it got weird. All of a sudden, I looked up again and they had shifted position so they were sitting right next to one another. His eyes were focused so intently on hers that I thought she might burst into flames. I really couldn’t believe what I was seeing as his hand shakily made its way from his side to hers and hovered over her knee. This was bizarre and I was riveted. To my shock, the girl looked at him and NODDED. I kid you not! With the green light, the boy proceeded to lower his hand and rested it gingerly on the girl’s knee. She reacted with…delight and then returned the favor. Hands on knees. It could have stopped there and I still would have been quite disturbed. But it did not. At this point I averted my eyes for a moment and saw the table next to mine, its inhabitants also watching the unorthodox scene before us. A quick glance around the surrounding tables confirmed my presumption: we were all watching. The love fest was encircled by tables at which sat an audience of befuddled BYU students. Surely these two noticed they were the object of bewildered observation by more than a few. THEY DID NOT. They only saw one another. When my gaze made it back to the lunchtime spectacle she was guiding his hand slowly from her knee up to her shoulder. He put both hands on the girl’s shoulders and I was hoping for a minute that he would shake her out of her hormonal trance and she would do likewise to him. No such luck. The exploration continued. I tried to concentrate on their faces (though by this point trembling fingers had settled there) and I saw that accompanying the unbroken eye contact were occasional bits of dialogue I couldn’t hear. I don’t know if I have ever wished more fervently for super-sonic hearing than I did at that moment. My best guesses as to what was being said included gems like: “Touching? This is great! I can’t believe we’ve never tried this before,” “I wonder if anyone else knows about this,” or my personal favorite, “I really liked the knee, what else is good?” I’ll spare you the gory details. Suffice it to say, it took about five minutes for the make-out session to begin at which point the situation ceased to be fascinating and became just another PDA. Up until that point, however, they had out rapt attention. Try as we did, we could not look away. Like a train wreck. I looked around when the show was over at my fellow spectators and we breathed a collective sigh of relief that this macabre extreme expression of sexual frustration and twisted public display of…whatever that was had come to an end. I finished my sandwich and went back home to the HFAC, not quite sure what I had just seen.
I tried to tell myself that this had been a sweet scene of chaste physical expression of love. In a food court. At lunchtime. Sure. And it was none of my business, I know. Goodness knows, when you’re out in a very public place you can expect the degree of privacy you need to discover the body of your significant other. What?! I try to be understanding, but you know what? No. It was just weird.
PS: If you are reading this and you were one of these two Cougareat lovebirds, please contact me. I have a LOT of questions.