Get a Room and Kill Yourselves
You come into my coffee shop almost every day. The two of you have your arms wrapped around each other like an octopus and you nuzzle each other as you wait in line. It's obvious that you are in your own special little world and only come down to earth for mundane purposes. I always ask you what you want. Instead of answering me, you whisper it to your boyfriend and he tells me. I ask a follow-up question, you whisper your response to him and he tells me. It's not cute—it is FUCKING ANNOYING. It's a coffee order, not the secret to Narnia. You come across as a brain-dead zombie incapable of human interaction instead of the sweet so-much-in-love pixie that you imagine you are.