kisses.
The first entry in the series I like to call:
YEAH. I MADE OUT WITH YOUR BOYFRIEND. WHAT, SUCKA. (absence of proper grammatical punctuation is intentional)
So, I’ve kissed a lot of toads. Not actual toads, of course, because I like living and all that good stuff—most of the time—but toads as in metaphors for not-so-perfect-but-sneaky-enough-to-look-like-frog-princes men. Did that make sense? Anyway, I have had my share of toads that my African lips have had the pleasure of smooching, but do not mistake my titling of these men as “toads” to mean that the smooching seshes were all that terrible. In reality, I don’t know that I have ever kissed someone who was a terrible kisser. So, that’s one for me, and zero for you, universe! However, I have had my share of love life drama, a good portion of which is my own doing, I’m sure, and much of which has been a result of a simple kiss. Or a complex kiss. Or an Eskimo kiss. Or a we-probably-shouldn’t-be-doing-this-but-what-the-hell kiss, followed by a I-wish-we-had-done-that-for-longer daydream.
In any case, I have probably kissed fewer men than nearly all of you. I can remember every single one. I can account for all them on fewer fingers than my two hands possess. That’s a good sign right?
One of the best parts of being involved with someone new is that first kiss. Of course, there is always the possibility that the first kiss could be the last. There is the possibility that the first kiss could be a mistake and the second kiss and the third kiss and the fourthfifthsixseventh will just be delaying the inevitable tossing of the toad to the curb. Or something like that. So I decided why not write a series of first kisses. In no particular order. Because that doesn’t matter. They are all firsts. Strange. Awkward. Sweet. Cute. Completely random. Nose bumping. But that’s life.
I will mention no names. I’m certainly one to kiss and tell, but the people don’t matter. They never really do. ….right?
6 months ago • Notes