kissing

my thoughts keep flittering back. i'm putting on eyeliner and there we are, grinning and giggling wrapped together in a blanket at a bonfire. i'm driving down 800 east and he's suddenly holding my hand. my body remembers him. i try to forget.

one week before we said goodbye indefinitely, i leaned into him as we walked outside, utterly content. we stood next to his little red truck and i kissed him, until he put his hand through my hair. we caught our breath and i was happy. i wouldn't let him open his door, asking for one more kiss. and another. and another. he heartily complied. i held my arms against the cold as he backed away in his truck and i sighed and smiled. i have not been kissed like i need since that november night. 

it was a beautiful love story while it lasted. 

i ran the calculations: my last "first kiss" was approximately 16 months ago. which equals out to two men in two + years. how 'bout that? not too shabby. my mother would be {is} proud. 

i find the first kiss to always be intimidating-- you don't know quite what to expect. you fear the worst: chapped lips, wandering hands, bad breath, too much saliva, too much tongue, too much biting. you catch my drift.  but while you fear the worst, you can't help but hope for the best: soft lips, gentle and passionate, hands in the hair, heavenly breath, and no pushing the envelope. 

today, a co-worker and i were discussing kissing {and the drought thereof} and it dawned on me-- i am more than apprehensive about my next "first kiss". {not that it's happening in the near future, mind you} i forget how these things work-- does he go 90% and i go 10%? gum or no gum? i've been so accustomed to two styles of kissing, what if the next is completely different? 

i'm sure things will all work out when the moment comes. as my favorite movie advises: "it'll come".