At first, it made me want to mess with him more. I'd get a kick out of watching him squirm as I squeezed his leg under the table during quizzo. But, the more playful I got, the angrier he'd get. He'd smack my hand away, narrow his eyes and tell me to knock it off. He wasn't kidding around: he hated it.
I couldn't understand why he never wanted to display any affection towards me in public. He'd firmly tell me that he "hated PDA" and that he found any kind of physical contact in public supremely uncomfortable. I'd try to gently explain that we didn't have to have a free-for-all Woodstock-esque love-in in the middle of the street, but that, yes, I expected my boyfriend to be affectionate with me when we're out together. It was no use; he downright refused.
Now, there is no way I'd consider dating someone who had those kinds of hangups. It's funny: for a guy who hated holding hands, he sure was a handful to deal with. Who hates holding hands? That's like, the BEST PART of dating someone. He's totally missing out, man.