My cousin had a Labor Day party a few years ago at a house she was renting with college friends. They were all a few years younger than me and had just graduated, which immediately led me to (correctly) assume it would be like the house parties I used to attend when I myself was in college. Though the idea of actually attending this party was right up there with getting a root canal, I knew she really wanted me to come. I hadn’t seen her in a while and I thought it might be fun to spend time with her in her element. Plus they had a huge trampoline in the backyard.
One of the first people I met was her friend Dan, who played guitar. We chatted for a while about playing and composing and what kind of music we liked. He was cute and of course, very laid-back. I think he had a girlfriend though, which is probably why I was able to talk at length with him.
How I ended up making out with my cousin’s roommate Al is beyond me. Perhaps it was due to the beer I was drinking and not enjoying because I was uncomfortable at this party where I knew nobody. It didn’t help that my cousin abandoned me in favor of her latest boyfriend, which made me angry because I came for her, but also because it meant I had to force myself to meet new people.
Al was shorter, younger, shier and drunker than I was, all of which kind of endeared him to me. Every one of his roommates as well as my cousin told me at various points of the evening that he thought I was beautiful and really liked me. They also kept including the fact that he was inexperienced. I had to ask which one he was because I only met him briefly when I first arrived at the party. However, the next thing I knew I was in his bedroom. I suppose I related to his inexperienced status and felt just as bad for myself as I did for him. At any rate, somewhere along the way I decided what the hell? I might as well get some fun out of this.
I’m pretty sure that if he had been sober he never would have been brave enough to shove his tongue down my throat. Needless to say the memory of it is not tucked away in the best kiss vault. Actually it’s safe to say it is buried inside the worst.
And yet, I kept making out with him.
When it got to the point where the clear thought ok, this is getting gross pierced through my drunken buzz, I pulled away and literally wiped my face. I know. Ew. It’s the one and only time I’ve ever kissed a guy because I felt bad for him and thought I could get a little something out of it.
He probably thought I was a bitch because I never responded to his emails. I just didn’t know what to say. You got more out of me than alot of guys before you so be happy? You win for worst kiss, now please stop trying?
No comments:
Post a Comment