Once upon a time, there was a boy.
We talked for hours - over MSN. He loved my writing, and I would send him samples of pieces, starting with the impersonal - the ranty and the political - and eventually easing him into more personal stuff until I’d finally sent him a twenty page manuscript outlining the detailed story of a previous break-up.
Shortly thereafter, he started making out with me, and I knew we were dating.
Dating him was difficult, because I never was quite sure if we were dating or not. On our first outing, he invited me to a movie - date! But he phrased it as though he was going, and if I was free, I was welcome to join him - not date. I discovered that we were alone on said outing - date! But he made no overtures of closeness or feigned attempts to pay for my ticket - not date. He insisted I wear his jacket, afterward, when I was cold - date! But he didn’t attempt to kiss me - not date. This pattern continued until I’d fully resigned to life as a confused and incompetent heterosexual.
Finally, on our third or fourth such outing, he slapped my ass and shortly thereafter stuck his tongue down my throat. We made out a few times, and I stayed thoroughly confused. I liked him. He was a good friend. And I’d been attracted to him - or at least, I thought I had. Then again, I didn’t enjoy kissing him…and that was because he was a bad kisser.
His mouth was an unfortunate, vacuum-like device which managed to engulf my entire mouth, and nose, and render me both unable to breath and mildly nauseous. I choked, and gagged, and he seemed entirely oblivious. I feigned coyness, and the need to write a paper, and I sent him on his way. I mustered the courage to break up with him a week later.
He has, henceforth, thoroughly hated my guts.
And this story continued and repeated, unhappily, ever after, until your writer resigned herself to never having sex again, dying alone, and inevitably being eaten by her dogs.
The End.
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Posts
4 comments:
While (Interesting choice of words to begin, is this going to become a trend?...magic 8-ball? "Outlook is uncertain." It is almost certain that my posts will) I once again enjoyed your writing (maybe I'm the boy...almost certainly not), I do feel your pain on experiencing the awful kissing ability of another person. I can only count the number of girls that I have looked forward to kissing on one hand, a number of fingers could even be cut off of that hand. Much like the emotional roller coaster of life, kissing is something to be savored much like Matt Pond PA's song Halloween (I should really think about taking up the business of selfless promoting...not that it would help his music gain popularity with the masses). That whole Shop-Vac approach to kissing really is, well, befitting of your modern love story.
I once dated a girl that would try to EAT my mouth. Like, everything between the bottom of my nose to the bottom tip of my chin - not fun.
It was like dating a boa. So, vaccum kissing? Doesn't sound that bad.
I was glad to see I'm not the only person who tries to woo romantic interests with his writing. It's generally a hit-or-miss indication of how much chemistry we'll have, (if they like it all completely, not much, if they can give critical feedback and maybe a liiiittle bit of praise, lots). If they have their own writing to share too, all the better.
Sadly, Microsoft Word and the internet can't teach you how to kiss. I'm working under the theory that books can, however, and have thus refined the art as best I can in my imagination.
Ew, bad kissing can ruin an otherwise good relationship. My worst was th guy who thought spitting in my mouth was cool. FYI, I got my "sex ed" from Penthouse Forum (late 60s-70s) and th letters there and in Playboy, and that Q&A with th tiny-lady cartoon. DK how th modern mags compare.
Post a Comment