February 04, 2010
I was rather hoping that this admission would seem a little less creepy (and/or desperate) written down than it did in my head but since I've resolved not to hold anything back in this journal, wise or unwise as that may be, here we go...I would seriously fork over twenty bucks for one good, long, devouringly passionate kiss.
I'm basically not kidding.
And 'devouringly' is a word in Laura Land.
The notion that I whole heartedly deserve one good lip smacking is certainly not in question. The fact that I have been thus deprived and now have to actualize this gesture monetarily, however, is rather sad. It's not that I need to pay for the fundamental act -- hell I was offered "a good kiss" not more than five days ago -- it's just that I don't want a mediocre experience. I want a fairly specific sort of kiss with a fairly specific set of lips for a fairly specific duration of time. And since you're supposed to get what you pay for, I would like a kiss that's worth about twenty dollars. Please.
"What about The Boy" you ask? Well, what about him? I was more than willing to overlook the fact that he can't kiss when he was a supportive, loving and respectful Nice Guy. In fact I did just that for 2.5 years. But ever since he's hopped careers to become a professional Jackass, I just don't see why I should waste my time. He's still a good guy, from a distance, but now he no longer has to pretend he likes kissing and I no longer have to pretend it doesn't matter. We're part time Whatevers and that's fine, I guess. Passion not included.
I acquainted one of my exes with the thought. He naturally offered to donate his time to my worthy cause but that would be about as satisfying as substituting a straw for a cigarette. It's not the same. I don't even have to try it to be convinced.
I suppose I could have said yes to the man who offered me a kiss five days ago so as to properly 'live in the moment' and 'seize the day' and 'throw something off into the wind' and all that crap but I just couldn't see fit to acquiesce. I just sort of stood there, gently swaying, after he asked me. During that brief refrain as I tried to picture this kiss, I realized that I just could not. Not now and perhaps not ever. I just couldn't see myself kissing a man named Pat.
Sorry Pat.
No, as I said, I have a rather specific sort of kiss playing in my head. The kind that leaves your lips a darker shade of red. The kind that stings a little afterward. The kind you can't see fit to end. The hungry kind. The thought of it catches me off guard and sets my heart on overtime when I turn the corner during my downtown walks. I gotten so flustered just thinking about it that I almost tripped over myself. It somehow finds me when I'm dreaming (Chantix?) and sticks with me long after I'm awake. And I want it. It's THAT good of a kiss.
Definitely worth twenty bucks.
Unfortunately the owner of those fairly specific set of lips keeps pulling the Married Card out on me.
sigh