Well, well, well. What a week it has been, albeit an interesting one. So after last weeks rather cathartic post which can only be described as a messy expression of what is in my head I have thought of little else. How is it dear friends, that I always seem to get myself stuck in predicaments such as these! Now I know you are just itching to find out what happened with myself and what seems so be and increasing number of people being added to what was a very dusty and empty LBB (Little Black Book). So just so we are all on the same page here - My sleepover with Mr. ToyBoy never materialised since he was 'ill' and too sick to come over (No pun intended) and so I spent my Saturday night snuggled on my sofa under numerous blankets watching trash TV and eating banana chips dipped in peanut butter - Seriously if you haven't tried it you need to, although I have yet to experiment with Jam instead of Skippy. Nevertheless my weekend continued and more-so after a disappointing Saturday night in more ways than one I spent Sunday evening in the company of Mr. Warehouse. In fact it went as far as to be the wee small hours of this morning when he finally departed. Now I am not one to kiss and tell, despite my daily trials and tribulations. Ha! Who am I kidding - That's what I do!
I will leave it simply that I had a wonderful time in the company of someone whom I have grown quite fond of. After a few hours of talking and light flirting we ordered a take-away and for a few moments whilst plonking myself next to him on my citrus couch or fetching the sauces I felt as if I had been in that moment for years. It seemed so natural. So easy and simple. As cheesy as it sounds it felt as if it was meant to be. But for now I see Mr. Warehouse now as a close friend that I could share secrets with and tell anything too. Although there are some things I should probably shelter him and his heart from. Taking swigs from our pear Cider I could easily see this developing into one of those cosy little relationships whereby you just lounge around all day eating junk food and get progressively fat, eventually looking like you should have been classed as an extra in The Nutty Professor. Soon things got very deep and with emotional eyes ready to spill the subject was quickly changed to more benevolent matters. Flicking through an old scrap-book Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb made me for my 21st Birthday prompted me to admire how simple my days as a school girl were. As Mr. Warehouse and I paged through my documented life sandwiched into a royal blue, silk-bound book I recalled my first time and shared my experience with my date for the evening ...
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Another cold, blustery and slightly damp December afternoon and as the winter months drew in I was conscience that my relaxing Wednesday afternoon always felt better in the Summer when I could get away with being late home from school. My school days finished early on a Wednesday and so the ritual was to take a leisurely walk to the other side of town back to my best friend, Mr. First's family home so we could enjoy playing house whilst his mother was out at work and younger sister was still at school. Essentially just an extension of school, our midweek afternoons were spent feeding the dog potato (In which I am pretty sure your not meant to do), making the dinner and drinking sweet, milky tea. Some of my fondest memories were spent up in his attic room with his grey-marled spaniel, having playful pillow fights, gossipping about school and using an orange and our necks pretending to make-out. It was on this cold, blustery and slightly damp Wednesday afternoon in December that something happened between Mr. First and me that would forever change the dynamic of our friendship.
Mr. First and I had finished at around lunchtime and with the usual plan to go back to his and play grown-ups still intact we headed off. As we approached the bend in the road I noted the flickering of street lamps coming on with a tinking noise as they lit up the street in the late-afternoon sun. Oddly we stopped though. Mr. First halting me in my tracks. Saying our goodbyes took longer than usual that time and I know now that this was all a matter of finding some balls. As we went to hug I suddenly saw my best friend turn his head slightly, eyes shutting I knew that this was it. This was going to be my first kiss. Outside! Alfresco! With my best guy-friend! After imagining it in secret for sometime I was secretly happy but bricking myself about what would happen. At fourteen I was completely unprepared and whilst I had watched multiple times alone in my room people make-out on films and TV I never really gave it much thought and just assumed everyone would be good at it and that the whole experience would be all fireworks, rainbows and unicorn farts! That was not the case as the name entails. Mr. First was either very inexperienced or very knowledgeable about how to do this whole 'snogging' thing!
No where to run too and realising this was going to happen whether I wanted to or not I threw caution to the wind for one of the first times in my semi-adult life and accepted Mr. First's lips on mine. As I experienced what it was like to feel another persons tongue for the first time I noted of the slipperiness and how oddly ferocious it all was. "Oh dear lord what is this?", "How do I do it?", "Am I terrible?", "Will he laugh at me?", "Why does it taste like that?", "How am I meant to do this?" and "Where did I put the 'How To Guide'?" were all that I could think about, questions whizzing round my head like a NASCAR race. Passionate as it was I felt as if I was in a washing machine on a high setting with out the option to open the door. Getting into it I felt my face begin to ache. It had never done this before and so was not used to being stretched and tightened in such a way. It was at this point I became aware of the situation. It was getting darker and with less than a fortnight to go until Christmas I was wary that my parents would freak out again if I was not back by sundown. Panicking I must have stopped my mouth from moving in such a way to allow the kissing to continue. As we pulled away from each other I watched a dog walker glare from the other side of the street oblivious to how crucial this moment was in our young lives. Feeling the pull of home and suddenly the impact of what had just happened hitting me like a tonne of bricks I turned and ran away. Without even saying anything I ran away from the boy who gave me my first proper kiss. And I didn't stop until I got home, running all three-miles. Non-stop.
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I know now as a twenty-three year old that this, my first experience of kissing, is not the norm. And if for those of you it is and you too want to run away from it then please do. There is so much more to life than a bad kisser. There are the softies. The barely there kisses given usually when first getting to know someone or after an argument. Sometimes these soft smooches are given as a way of waking up a loved one in the best way someone can be woken up. Mmm, I like them. Then there are angries. Those hard, hot and heavy ones that are usually given whilst in a heated discussion or argument. Tension filled potentially angry and infected with rage those kisses are best served with lots of passion and side order of rough and maybe a little sprinkle of biting but not hard. Mmm, I like them too. And who can forget the tensioners. The kisses you have when there is a tension build up usually commencing in a 'Yes' vs. 'No' struggle of stubbornness and power to control the situation; Slowly reaching a peak whereby heads become closer, and almost to the point in which you both break out into laughter or enter into the angry kiss as before but continue the cycle round and round and round until one of you finally just says 'Fuck It' and grabs your face.
And that's another thing. When kissing what do you do with your hands and the rest of your body parts. I worry about this all the time. Whenever I am there, in the moment, enjoying (or loathing in many cases) the sensations of making out with someone, I am constantly thinking about what to do with my hands. Where do they go and what do they do? What it the limb etiquette for kissing someone tell me? For a guy its easy - Running your hands through a girls hair is sure to be a winner - At least in my case anyway. But be warned if she has a slick up-do or hair that looks as if it has been combed by a hedge then be warned, she might hit you. If in doubt always go for the neck, gently cupping her jawbone in a Hollywood inspired romantic screen kiss. Its sweet and caring and adorable and cute all at the same time whilst being a little bit controlling which is always a good thing, at least in my books.
And so I prepare myself for tomorrow - Getting my shirt ironed, making my lunch and preparing for the questions that will ensue. But I shall never Kiss and Tell ...
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
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