With me it’s either feast or famine. In the last few months I’ve been inundated by fabulous kissers. It occurred to me last night that this is so. And I started to wonder why. And then I thought, “Oh, shut up, Mimi. Just enjoy it.” You know I can’t do that! I'm too analytical.
And I don't mean just ordinary peck-on-the-cheek dates. I mean lovely slow sigh-inducing fog producing deep kissing kissers. Perfect gentlemen. And lovely kissers. Men who know how to really kiss a woman. Is the moon full or something? It’s a pattern I tell ya. A very very very very very good pattern. A spell. I don’t want to break it. But really. I decided to pontificate for your edification and my future romantic amusement.
Let us evaluate:
1. The infamous Parking Lot Kisser who took me on our first date to the Oyster Bar. We all know what happened there. Eh. I missed him for awhile and we bantered back and forth and then. Eh. Our humor was all off. But it was so odd the way he wanted everybody in the restaurant to watch this spectacle through the front window. Infamous!
2. The Rain Kisser (I dared him. He did.)
3. The Return of The Parking Lot Kisser
4. The Toe-Curling Kisser
5. The Couch Kisser
And to make it even more complicated, each, in his own unique way was a better kisser than the last. All but one had intriguing potential for awhile.
And all but one turned out to be complete jerks. ComPLETELY unacceptable. Except for the kissing. The kissing was good. It was very very very very good. Exceptional!
A quandary of pheromonal proportions.
Maybe I should see what they're like when the moon is not full. Just for the sake of scientific research. I know all of them must think I'm the most fickle woman on the planet. Why do I care? All but #4 were something akin to disasters in the making. And I knew it before too long when things outside the fog just didn't seem to add up. Of course, as is my usual custom, I found this out after too much kissing. Or not enough. Which is it?
What simple fun and how utterly odd that at this moment in time I would be given a plethora of prize puckerers. I couldn't help myself. I channeled Scarlett you see and when that happens my eyelashes take on a life of their own and the rest is couch kissing history.
Still. My choice was to end it before it really began. Maybe it's not possible to have it all. Maybe you can't find knee-buckling kissing and a man of integrity in the same person. Maybe I'm asking too much. I don't care how much my toes curl if their lips tell lies in between the sighs.
Monday, July 5, 2010
What would Scarlett do?
That's what I thought.