Moments of intimacy stay with us. I still remember my first real kiss. We were at church camp, hiding off the path, sitting on a boulder hidden by trees. She was way out of my league. I had no clue what I was doing. In fact, the only thing I was sure of was that if we were caught, I would never hear the end of the lectures.

We were never caught. We dated on-and-off for two years. I learned a lot, not just about kissing and intimacy, but about trying to navigate social expectations of how we were supposed to behave. I didn’t like the barriers then, and I cringe when I see people still yielding to them now. 

Intimacy has a script. 

There is an invisible script for navigating human connection. We are saddled with it the moment we look to anyone other than our Mommy or Daddy for affection. You’ve likely seen it in your own children if you have any. The two-year-old at preschool, or perhaps in the synagogue nursery, enjoys playing with another person so much that they decide to express their friendship through a kiss. What happens in the next five seconds puts an indelible mark on our brain about how relationships should be handled. 

That intimacy script dictates the acceptable parameters of affection, drawing sharp lines between what belongs behind closed doors and what is permitted in the light of day. It also tells us what is age-appropriate so that we don’t get too ahead of our young, burgeoning emotions. Our parents understood the script. That doesn’t mean they played by it, but they certainly expected us to. They were constantly reminding us, “We don’t want you to make the same mistakes we did.”  

But what happens when we choose to tear up that script? Navigating intimacy beyond these mainstream expectations requires a radical commitment to unapologetic expression. We stop worrying about “what will people say,” and focus more on how we feel, both in the moment and afterward.

No More Rom-Com Clichés

Too much of our concept of intimacy is defined by what we see in the movies and hear in popular music. You know, things like the “third date rule,” and what happens if they don’t return your first “I love you.” These clichés have hijacked our cultural understanding of intimacy. We are force-fed a diet of sanitized romance: the carefully orchestrated candlelit dinners, the perfectly timed declarations of love, and the quiet, polite holding of hands. 

If you were raised to go to church, those clichés probably looked more like a scene (or two) from the movie “Dirty Dancing.” Just sitting too close to each other was enough to elicit stern looks and a warning from a parent. I made the mistake once of putting my arm around a girl while in church. My father stopped his sermon and gave me a look that I knew meant trouble. I removed my arm and rubbed it as if I were hurt.

Authentic intimacy rarely looks like a movie scene. It is vibrant, sometimes messy, and deeply personal. Dodging these clichés means rejecting the idea that your connection needs to be palatable to a hypothetical audience. Yet, the concept of going off script, of navigating intimacy on our own, is enough to cause some people to have date-ending anxiety attacks. We need to think about these things, and maybe have a chat with our therapist, before we even consider making dinner reservations.

Intimacy With An Audience: The New PDA

Nowhere is the battle for unapologetic expression more visible than in the realm of Public Displays of Affection (PDA). I remember Friday nights on the band bus coming back from a football game. The first time someone leaned over and attempted to kiss their chosen seatmate, someone else would scream, “PDA! PDA!” The bus driver would turn on the ceiling lights and the band director would walk to the back of the bus to give the requisite lecture on keeping our hands, legs, and especially our lips to ourselves. The lecture didn’t work, of course. The instant the lights were off, lips were connected again, knowing giggles filled the back of the bus, and by the time we got back to school, some people had to make sure they had all their clothing.

Unapologetic expression of intimacy turns PDA into a subtle, everyday adventure. This isn’t about performative exhibitionism; it is about refusing to compartmentalize your affection. It is the simple, radical act of refusing to let go of your partner’s hand just because you walked into a grocery store. It is the lingering kiss on a street corner, the casual arm wrapped around a waist in a park, or the unabashed embrace when greeting someone at an airport terminal. These adventures in PDA serve as a quiet rebellion against the sterilization of public spaces. By refusing to hide, we challenge the outdated notion that love and desire are somehow inherently shameful or private. We assert that our connection has a rightful place in the world.

Redefining What Is “Appropriate”

I didn’t realize it when I was young, but apparently my parents were the radical nonconformists of the 1960s, running around holding hands all the time. Location never seemed to matter. If my parents were together, they were holding hands, and if one of them had a sudden wave of romantic feelings, they kissed. In public. In front of God and everyone. I never realized how big a deal that was until I started doing it myself and felt the eyes of shame bearing down on us. 

Marketing tip: want to get everyone’s attention? Grab a friend’s hand and go skipping merrily across the street or down the sidewalk. Make sure someone is taking pictures of all the stares. Bonus points if you have more than one other person involved. Double the bonus points if everyone is the same gender. Everyone on the street is now paying attention to see what you do next.

Non-indigenous American society stems from a Puritan background that was severe and looked upon any form of intimacy as sin. They burned women as witches because they were amorous and expressed desire. That attitude hasn’t changed much over the past 400 years! Skipping down the sidewalk holding hands is enough to have some people gasping in shock. 

Allegedly, the cultural tides are shifting. The refusal to use generic or sterilized terms for a partner when a more accurate, passionate one applies still throws people a curve, but it is also absolutely necessary. I often refer to my long-term significant other as my partner, then I watch people’s expressions before I continue. Some people need clarification; others simply need a second for their brain to register what they’ve been told. Changing my vocabulary helps shift a repressed culture into more accepting territory.

Yeah, this shift often creates friction. When we stop conforming to society’s outdated comfort zones, we force people to confront their own ingrained biases and conditioned responses. We owe no one a sanitized version of our lives. Intimacy doesn’t end at the bedroom door. 

Intimacy As A Catalyst For Change

Ultimately, navigating intimacy beyond mainstream expectations is a lifelong practice of courage. It requires us to constantly question whose rules we are following and why. Not only does this apply to our own actions, but it applies to our reactions to others’ public expressions of intimacy. How do you respond when you see another couple, or possibly even a throuple, holding hands, kissing, and even touching each other in public? Do you smile appreciatively, or do you scowl, perhaps jealous that you’re not doing the same thing?

Here’s the hot point: social expectations never change unless they’re challenged repeatedly. Not just once, or only in certain locations. If we want the social script to change, we have to demonstrate that a bit of casual or romantic intimacy isn’t going to cause the fall of civilization. 

So, get out there and set a new standard for intimacy!

Have an idea for navigating intimacy in public? Let us know!