Children played all around. Cars passed. No one cared.
“It’s a little more open now,” Mr. Ruiz said after sitting up. “We can enjoy ourselves.”
In Havana or Rio de Janeiro, well, big deal. But historically this has been a city of formalities, of long-sleeved shirts, not skin-tight skirts. Blushing has generally been the response to overt sexuality, along with a lexicon of double entendres to mask X-rated desires with banal words, like “coger” (which, officially speaking, means to grab).
And yet, despite such reserve — or perhaps because of it — public affection has increasingly become a symbol of what experts describe as a city learning to loosen up. Government officials here now boast about having some of Latin America’s most liberal laws on abortion and same-sex marriage. Meanwhile, sex shops can now be found in even the fanciest neighborhoods; oh, and this month, Mexico City played host to a five-day sex entertainment show that drew 120,000 fans — placing it among the biggest sex fairs in the world.
“What’s happening is that the undercurrent is becoming more official,” said Luis Perelman, president of the Mexican federation for sexuality education and sexology. “We’re seeing less doublespeak.”
But if there is less embarrassment and shame, as Mr. Perelman and others argue, why now?
That seems to depend on which Mexico one sees: the romantic, or the dismal.
Demographers — optimists in this case — see links between coupling and economics. Several studies have shown that compared with a generation ago, Mexicans are having more sex at younger ages, a trend that generally tracks with Mexican economic expansion. Sex and affection, some Mexican demographers argue, tend to be signs of confidence, expressions of faith that opportunities await.
Salaries and culture also intertwine. Mexico’s growth has created a larger middle class that — in addition to opening up the country’s political process — has made technology and international media more accessible. The hookups on “Jersey Shore,” for instance, are now just as easy to see here as in Miami, while pornography can be downloaded at public parks with Wi-Fi.
The so-called love hotels, where local couples have canoodled for decades, can no longer keep sexuality hidden. “They see it all on TV or the Internet, so they no longer feel they are the only ones doing it,” Mr. Perelman said.
And, as Mr. Ruiz put it, “We don’t care as much about what other people think.”
Clearly, that seemed to be the case for a teenager at a mall recently, with his lips ardently attached to, of all things, the knee of his girlfriend; or for the man on a busy corner an hour later, passionately kissing a woman while wrapping his leg around her like an ivy vine.
But Mr. Ruiz and Ms. Villafuerte, who are both 40, may be more typical. They met three months ago while selling hats in an outdoor plaza, and in a year when the Mexican economy is expected to grow by 4 percent, after growing by 5.5 percent last year, they said they had taken an afternoon off to spend time together because they could afford to.
Neither looked particularly sensual. Mr. Ruiz wore round glasses below a shiny balding head; Ms. Villafuerte’s blue eyeliner was her only hint of provocation. But they both said that their affection reflected a positive shift.
“When we were young, people would point and gawk at you for this kind of thing,” Mr. Ruiz said. “Now, there’s more acceptance.”
Pride may be a better term. Two years ago, Mexico City actually beat the world record for simultaneous smooching when 39,897 people locked lips downtown.
Other couples, however, described public affection in more ominous terms. Mexico these days is essentially Jekyll and Hyde: positive economic growth is paired with a sprawling war on drug cartels that has claimed 34,000 lives since 2006.
For people like Paulina Pérez, 26, who was sitting on her boyfriend’s lap during a break from in-line skating in the upscale neighborhood of Polanco, public affection reflects not a spike in happiness, but rather a deficit of trust.
Mexicans, she said, have always drawn a line between formal relationships and relationships with those inside “their circle of confidence.” Hugs, kisses and warmth color the latter, while handshakes and a polite distance dominate the former.
This is generally what makes amorous Mexican couples stand out. “Public displays of affection draw attention precisely because of the disconnect with the general culture,” said Rubén Gallo, who edited The Mexico City Reader, a chronicle of the capital.
But the gap between the social spheres seems to be widening. While drug-related violence has made Mexicans more afraid of strangers, it has intensified their closest bonds, Ms. Pérez said. So the affection that looks to some like an opening — a more honest account of sexuality — may actually be, for others, a reflection of turning inward to fight off despair.
“Affection is a way to forget,” Ms. Pérez said. “You forget your problems, and you live.”
Her boyfriend, tapping her behind, said he agreed.
