Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘kisses’

Two Words

Today a friend posted a fun little meme on her Facebook page, it had a picture of a blank piece of notebook paper and under it the question:

If you could write a note to your younger self, in two words, what would you say?

That was actually quite tough… just two words?  Three words came pretty easy, but this was a challenge!  I thought for a while, and then finally figured out what I would write to Bennie the Younger…

KISS HER

If you could write a note to your younger self, in two words, what would you say?

Thinking back to so many times in my life, if I would have heeded these words rather than the self-doubt that always seemed to plague my thoughts… well, I’ve no doubt life would’ve been a lot more fun 🙂

Advertisements

Read Full Post »

The last post I wrote about my first date in forever, how much we clicked and how much I enjoyed meeting her.  Since then, there’s been some good developments and a not-so-good development.

On the good developments, we had our first kiss the second time we got together and it was wonderful.  She’s a great kisser, and it had been so long since I’d really kissed someone that I floated home that night.  Did I mention it was wonderful?  The third time we got together, we shared another goodnight kiss that left me feeling all warm and tingly.  Yeah, yeah– maybe it’s not macho gushing about kissing, but I’ve made no secret how much I love kissing (…She’d Savor Smooching, 3 First Kisses).  I even lamented one time being bummed by the thought that if I got run over by a bus one day that my ex would be my Last Kiss.  Thankfully, that concern has been erased.

Our fourth get-together was cancelled because she was not feeling well, and unfortunately for the next ten days my insane schedule left few opportunities for us to see each other, and on those days she had prior commitments.  So our next date was going to be this Friday, and I was really looking forward to seeing her again.  I considered some options and wracked my brain for something particularly fun to do to make up for the time we’d spent apart.

Unfortunately, that’s where the not-so-good development comes in.  Over the course of a few emails back and forth we converse a bit about what we’re looking for in a relationship, and she tells me that we’re not really working out for her.  She’s looking for someone who can go and do many of the things she likes to go and do, but my time constraints make that difficult.  I work two jobs to support my kids and have visitation with them as often as I can.  Her kids are grown and on their own, and she’s fully enjoying the empty-nest phase of her life.

It totally bummed me out to hear but I could totally understand.  She’s a great woman and deserves to have a partner who can spend more time with her than I can.  I appreciated her honesty, and was glad she was bold enough to speak up about it sooner rather than later, and not just let linger, building up resentment along the way.  She said she still enjoyed my company and hoped that we could still get together as friends, and I was glad to hear that because I really liked chatting with her about a wide variety of things we both enjoyed talking about.  I proposed we still get together Friday, meeting at this cool Mexican restaurant that makes this incredible fresh guacamole right at your table, to share guac over margaritas, and she agreed.  You can never have too many friends, and she’s a friend who likes to go and do, which are particularly good to find in this stage of my life.

So what now?  I don’t know.  One worry I had about getting back into dating was concern about my time constraints, and that was the very thing that sank this relationship before it really got going.  She mentioned that dating me was like having a long-distance relationship, which seems like a pretty good analogy.  Maybe that sort of thing will be appealing to someone down the road, someone who might have similar time constraints as me.  At least we wouldn’t have the travel expense of a long-distance relationship!

At this point I think I’ll get back to checking in on OKCupid, maybe modify my profile a bit to emphasize my time-constraints to make it clear what I can and cannot offer at this stage in my life.  Sure, interest in my profile will likely shrink further, but it’s only fair to potential partners who run across me.

I’ll also keep trying to expand my social circles, find people who want to go and do stuff when I have the time to go and do.  And I’ll focus on my health, exercise and healthy eating.  Who knows what the future may bring?

Read Full Post »

So I decided to go to the party!  After 12 hours of work, I was still feeling peppy enough (after a diet Mountain Dew) to feel up to a little partying, so I took the long drive out to Powhatan County, arriving about 15 minutes before midnight.  As I drove up I noticed most everybody was outside milling about with their drinks.  A man and a woman I didn’t know directed me to a parking spot and came over to my car as I got out.

“Do you want a beer or your nipples red?” the gentleman asked me, and the woman laughed.

“Ummmm… well, I just got here so how about let’s start with a beer?” I replied to the totally unexpected question.  Nice recovery eh?

Actual real fireworks began to launch into the air.  We’re way out in the country, so I suspect the law won’t be coming ’round to stop it.  I hear a few people shout “you’re early, it’s not midnight yet!” so as I walk with the gentleman to get a beer I raise my hands.  “Thank you, thank you– fireworks are a great way to celebrate my arrival!”  I got some laughs.  Considering the only people I knew were Ellen and her boyfriend, I was hoping to hit it off with these new folks.

I came back outside with the beer, found Ellen and gave her a hug.  The initial man and woman came back around to me.  “Okay, I got your beer, are you sure you don’t want your nipples red?”  The woman giggled again, and I was just perplexed, really unsure how to answer.  She put her hand on my arm and said “Well, I can read both palms and nipples.  You can tell a lot from someone’s nipples and it’s more fun!”

The lightbulb went off.  Not nipples red, but nipples read, as in the past tense of read.  Ah, English can be such a damned-able language sometimes.

I laughed and explained how I misunderstood what they were asking– how I assumed they were basically asking if I wanted someone to tweak my nipples until they were red in color, and was wondering just what they hell sort of party I’d come to?  We all laughed, and it was pretty obvious that everyone had been “celebrating” for quite a while before I got there.  I had a lot of catching up to do.

“So,” the woman said.  “Want me to read your nipples?”

“I reserve the right to answer that once I’ve had more beers,” I replied.

After that first beer though I switched to liquor.  There was no way I could catch up to the general level of inebriation by drinking beer unless I was willing to rewind the clock 25 years and shotgun them, and I’d brought vodka and bloody mary mix to indulge with.  There was even a veggie tray I could use for celery stirrers!

I got my first bloody mary drink fixed and initial sipping done when the countdown on the TV said it was 2013.  Everyone cheered and started kissing everyone — ooooh, my kind of party!  Ellen looked around and then shrugged.  “Well, since my boyfriend is no where to be found, you’ll do!” and gave me a kiss.

Nipple-reading gal — who’s name turned out to be Tammy — came over to me.  “I’ve got this mistletoe following me around,” she said, gesturing to the imaginary evergreen hovering over her head.  “Well then, we better do something about that,” I said, and kissed her too.  60 seconds into 2013 and I’d gotten kissed by two women.  A damn fine start to the year!

Over the course of the evening — which lasted until 5am or so — I got to know Ellen and her boyfriend’s friends and really enjoyed hanging out with them.  They had that nice easy rapport of folks who’ve been friends a long time, and yet were also very friendly and open to this stranger from Ellen’s past.  I’d brought some fixings for B-52 shooters (a layered drink of Kahlua, Irish Creme, and a dollop of orange cognac)  and that made a pretty good ice-breaker for those willing to give it a try.  I brought the drink for nostalgia’s sake, because back when Ellen and I dated I used to make them for us at parties.  Everyone who tried them liked them.

I found it pretty easy to be comfortable with this group of friends, and tried to make sure to join in as many conversations as I could.

“I must confess to being a nipple reader myself,” I joked at one point.  “However, I must also confess it’s been a while so I’m probably a bit rusty…”  I got some laughs.  It felt good.

The party finally started to wind down super-late.  We’d been hanging out in his huge garage in the back of the property, and it had rooms attached to it that included a “mother-in-law suite” where one couple bunked down, and another room with two double beds where Tammy and her male friend both grabbed a bed.  My crash place was on a futon in a little den area near the bathroom (which seemed like a decent place to be).  I was having a tough time getting comfortable when suddenly I noticed that Tammy had walked in.  She waved.  “Hi.  I’ve slept on that futon and it’s not very comfortable.  I’ve got room if you want to sleep on a real bed.  Think about it, I gotta go pee.”  By the time she was done I had my pillow and clothes and ready to take her up on the offer.  Alone on an uncomfortable futon or beside a woman in a real bed?  Was there any question?  We get over to the room and her friend is snoring away in the other bed.  We snuggle up together, chat for a little while before sleep overtakes us.

I remembered to drink some Gatorade before bed, so when I woke up 5 hours later I didn’t feel too bad.  Everyone was slow moving, but eventually got in gear enough to go ahead and drive on home.  As I made my way back to my side of town, I couldn’t stop smiling.  I’d had such a great time– meeting some cool new people, had a lot of laughs, got some New Year’s kisses and went to sleep snuggled up with a woman for the first time in… well, too damn long.  If the way you start the new year can be indicative of how the rest of the year unfolds, 2013 is shaping up to be quite nice!

Read Full Post »

Sometimes I have these amazing vivid dreams, sometimes they’re weird, and sometimes they’re sweet.  Recently I had a sweet one.  I was at some sort of awards ceremony or graduation-type thing; in the haze of dreamland it’s not clear exactly what’s going on but I’m there, dressed up, alone. I was getting restless and about to leave early when I heard a name announced that sent a jolt of electricity through me, the name of an old love. I looked to the center aisle to see her, to see if it was indeed my Steph.  When she came into view my breath stopped, my heart sped up. It was her, grinning and walking quickly to accept her award/diploma or whatever it was. Her eyes swept the crowd and suddenly locked with mine.

She came up short, her eyes widening, as startled to see me as I was to see her. That chemical connection crossed the space between us, leaving my skin tingling and flush. Her grin broadened, but then she suddenly realized where she was, looked forward then back at me. I nodded for her to go on and she did, still smiling as hugely as I suddenly realized I was.

I made my way to the back of the auditorium, where I somehow knew she’d be passing. As the crowd of people walked by, it was as if they were transparent– again, our eyes locked, the connection leaped between us. She walked up to me and stood there, looking at me.

I took her in. God, she looked good. Tall, nearly as tall as me, with incredibly long legs, dancer’s legs. Her light brown hair was pulled back but long, flowing down half of her back. Her smile illuminated her lovely face, the high cheekbones, those luscious lips. I vividly recall our first kiss in her car as she dropped me off one night from the movies, those lips every bit as full as Angelina Jolie’s, so incredibly soft. The kind of kiss that stops space and time. The urge to kiss her now was incredibly powerful, but instead I pulled her into a hug. Her body felt perfect in my arms.

(more…)

Read Full Post »

I know this is going to sound silly, so please don’t laugh… but sometimes I worry that, if I got run over by a truck tomorrow it would be a damn shame that the last person I kissed was my ex wife.

Don’t get me wrong– I certainly enjoyed kissing her over those many years, she was really good at it.  But that part of my life is so over, so ancient history.

If you’ve read my blog long enough you’ve probably caught on that I’m a total kissing bug, love it, love it, love it.  I certainly dedicated quite a few posts to it (this and this and this and and even this) and — ha — here’s another one.

Last weekend I went to a Christmas party some great old friends were throwing; it had been way too long since I’d seen him and his wife.  I had the kids visiting with me, and while I was pretty sure it was “adult” party I figured we could swing by for a short visit.  My kids are old enough to chill out and occupy themselves for a little bit, and I wouldn’t subject them to hanging out for long.

The vibe really made me wish they’d held the party the previous weekend; there were a lot of people there, and the alcohol was flowing.  A lot of women my age, older, and younger, and a fair number of them single.  With a sigh I drank the Coca Cola, caught up with my friends, and checked in with the kids.  They were total angels, and I didn’t hold them there too long.  Soon we headed home.

I’m really looking forward to going to another mixer like that again, with a lot of people there, and the alcohol flowing.  A lot of women my age, older, and younger, and a fair number of them single.  With a little luck maybe one of them will make out with me…

Everyone else falls away...

…or give me her number for a date, leading to a long, lovely goodnight kiss at her front door.

Perfect end to a lovely evening

Then I can get run over by that truck and not have that regret hanging over my head.  Hey, I told you not to laugh at me 😉

Read Full Post »

%d bloggers like this: