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ACCORDING to Urban Dictionary, PDA can refer to one of three things: a public display of affection, personal digital assistant, or something being pretty damn accurate. For the purposes of this article, we鈥檒l be adopting the first and most commonly used definition.

[showads聽ad=MREC]Why? Because sucking face in public tends to get a bad rap. I鈥檝e had enough of it.

Let me start by disclosing that I get it. Before I met my boyfriend Brad, I suffered chronic singledom at a dangerous, red-warning-alert Bridget Jones-level. Not only was I unable to find a boyfriend, but I appeared to lack the inherent social competence long considered pre-requisite to most second dates. I couldn鈥檛 do the small-talk. I couldn鈥檛 do the sleepovers. I couldn鈥檛 do the sexy times.

Basically, I just couldn鈥檛 do it. Full stop.

Instead, I tried to epitomise the elusive power of one. I made the most of my weekends. I ate out and I slept in. I read good books and I developed bad vices. I lived for quiet Sunday mornings alone, free of the painful hangovers I so blindly associated with friends, fun, and lovers. Of course it was always then, as I sat alone with my coffee, toast, and regret, that I鈥檇 spot it: a young couple locked in passionate, thigh-clasping embrace at the next table. And yes, whether it was born from envy or a genuine repulsion of young love, the sight killed me ever so softly.

According to self-professed etiquette expert Debby Mayne of etiquette.com, 鈥渟etting is an essential element to consider when you want to display your affection for someone鈥�. But for those like me who were stuck in the audience?

鈥淚f leaving (the area) isn鈥檛 an option, or you really want to be there, you may politely ask the couple to hold off until later,鈥� Mayne advises. However, given my acute social anxiety and fear of confrontation, this scenario was never really an option. So I did what any passive-aggressive, skim cappuccino Casanova would do. I quietly dealt with it.

It鈥檚 been three years since and, call me loved-up or naive, I view things a little differently now. In fact, I鈥檓 of the opinion that public displays of affection are essential to the continued growth of LGBTI acceptance in society. Let me explain.

I still remember the first time I witnessed a same-sex kiss. I was 13 and sitting in my family lounge room at 6.35pm when fictional characters Sky Mangel and Lana Crawford locked lips on Neighbours in 2004. Cue both a beautifully profound personal revelation and swift national outrage. In a response eerily similar to the recent Gayby Baby faux furore, the lesbian kiss sparked nationwide debate on the scene鈥檚 appropriateness to younger viewers.

鈥淚t just saddens me that we give our young people the message that all these relationships are okay,鈥� said Peter Stokes, leader of evangelical Christian group Salt Shakers at the time.

One year later, as I sat nervously alongside my father in the back row of Dendy Newtown, Brokeback Mountain re-enforced this startling concept: sometimes boys kiss boys. Even, it seemed, when on 鈥渟uper masc鈥� camping trips. Hallelujah. My insides eroded into a hot mess of butterflies as I felt my world being slowly pried open.

This is why the humble PDA can no longer be misconstrued as a case of TMI (too much information). If anything, when it comes to queer relationships, there isn鈥檛 enough information. We can鈥檛 allow for another generation of LGBTI young people to be introduced to same-sex love via top-secret Google searches, the Murdoch media, film industry, or pornography. It must come before that. It must be foundational.

Even today I鈥檓 occasionally confronted by my own brief, almost indistinguishable discomfort at seeing same-sex couples engaged in PDAs. As though it were still deemed socially unusual, my eyes linger for a heartbeat longer than normal and I鈥檒l find myself turning for a double-take. But why? Why is it that I鈥檓 less irked by seeing a drunken alleyway blow-job than a genuine loved-up kiss? I suspect it鈥檚 psychological reverb from my teenage years, back when holding hands with a boy at the local Westfield was enough to ignite a whispered chorus of 鈥渙i, faggots!鈥�

That鈥檚 why we need more of it 鈥� to further normalise love and affection in whichever gender configuration it happens to arrive.

These aren鈥檛 just public displays of affection 鈥� they鈥檙e public displays of affirmation. They鈥檙e a simple way of displaying an abundance of pride in both who we are and who we love. And every time an impressionable young person sees a same-sex couple kissing or being otherwise affectionate in public, it helps to assemble their own balanced image of what love is.

So, pucker up.

Samuel Leighton-Dore is a Sydney-based writer and director. His best-selling eBook Love or Something Like It is available now and his children鈥檚 book I Think I鈥檓 A Poof .

Samuel is also one half of lifestyle blogging team Homos On Hiatus. Visit or follow聽 on Instagram.

Follow Samuel on Twitter via聽

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**This article was first published in the October聽edition of the 17c起草社区, which is . To obtain a physical copy, to find out where you can grab one in Melbourne, Sydney, Brisbane, Adelaide, Canberra and select regional/coastal areas.

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