ABitOfMischief

United States

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On an Impossible, Hidden Thing

September 2, 2020

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    I have decidedly decided upon a decision of great deliberation.
    Much to the derision of whom I will desire. 


    First kisses have always seemed like impossible, hidden things. Most people will have died having achieved it, and most manage to mangle their lips with another, consensually.

    But there's individualism to it, right? My friends will get their first kiss under polluted crescent moons and artificial bedroom lights, holding a laptop charger or air or hands (the latter being my least favourite as a perpetually cold and clammy palmed person. I'd had enough of "your fingers are cold," and "ew" to feel more like a corpse being viewed in an open casket ceremony than an actual person.)

    But kisses. First ones. Never understood them, as all my research material was taken away by the watchful eyes of parents covering the join between one person and another on the tv screen. I'd grown so accustomed to the habit that I do it myself: place a palm over the computer screen featuring Audrey Hepburn sharing saliva on the lap of a lying stud. 

    In movie theatres, during the rare times, I bother to even go, I simply turn my head, seeing just enough in the peripheral to approximate when to turn back. I pity the actors and actresses that practice their lip-locking chemistry on the big screen, all wasted on a viewer who finds more interest in fallen popcorn in those very moments. 

    This entire topic sounds teenagery, no? Oh, golly gee, who may I kiss, will I ever get to know how the French manage it?

    Wrong! I have thought about this back in the lush coed throes of Kindergarten. (That is a hard a word to spell now as it was back then.) We were midgets, all seventeen of us, and in the snake's length line to wash my hands of paint, I tilted my head and considered how my mouth may manage to fit with that of the boy standing in front of me.

    No, I don't remember his name. Or his face, quite frankly. But I'll issue an apology, nevertheless:

        Dear Kindergarten Boy in Paint Line, 

            Sorry man,

            Sincerely, 

        Girl Right Behind You. 

    In the way that kindergarten was a long time ago, I know for a fact that my first kiss will also be a long time away. Perhaps five years, perhaps five decades, perhaps five centuries (at such a point I will need a necrophiliac, but that's a matter for another time). The real point here is that I have determined a course of action for this first kiss, a masterplan, so to speak. 

    Allow me to demonstrate:

    I will be in the company of my recipient, and preferably, in private, so that no one may take the courtesy of photographing something that has an extremely high potential of going terribly wrong. 

    I will lean in, chin tilted down, tapping his arm to bring all attention to myself. Then, I will say, "I would like to explore something."

    Sir recipient will ask the million-dollar question, "what?" 

    Here is where the fun is.

    "Your lips," I'll say. 


    That's all I've got. And if it works, I will professionally publish the advice in a glossy paged magazine for the method to be used by anyone else interested in an impossible, hidden thing. 

 
Lemme have my teenager fun while the years are still in my grasp. 

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1 Comment
  • outoftheblue

    jlhasgfdljhasd this is iNCREDIBLE WHAT


    3 months ago