Kissing and making out used to seem great fun. I am talking for hours; I enjoyed hours of mouth mashing. In my single days (and there were many), we would go out at night with hopes of nabbing someone with whom to make out. These days, however, I often consider it a non-preferred activity. (I feel sad and un-proud about this.)
Though, the other night at the concert, I fully wanted to hump Andy in our lawn seats. We had quite possibly the best kiss ever, lasting the entirety of Toby Keith’s song: "You shouldn’t Kiss Me Like This". It sounds so corny and gross. And, I may have cared more if there hadn’t been people boning down in every direction.
The whole vibe was working. This, star-filled night at San Manuel Amphitheatre, Andy looked handsome as always.
Showered, groomed, and without babies, I felt pretty in my sexy new shirt and skinny jeans. I treasured the energy, the music, Andy. The moons and stars were aligned and we were enjoying our date. The KISS was one part of an already magical night.
It was a kiss just because, not just the precursory act to sex. Like newly dating kind of kiss…. The one you want so badly and aren’t sure when or if it will happen the way you imagine.….
The culmination of interactions and smiles delivers a keenly anticipated kiss.
Getting caught up in the moment makes for a great and promising kiss.
It is closeness, for me, that now prompts my interest in making out and stuff.