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Circle what it is you want

Not really talking about women, just Diane

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First Kiss


You walked me to my car. We were both drunk and had pizza breath. I was very excited. I swatted your hand away when it crept towards my breast, as I didn't want you thinking I was that kinda girl.

I had just picked you up at the airport. You kissed me while we were in the drive-thru line at Carl's Jr. not 30 minutes after we met. I remember wishing you had waited until we got to The Roost. Carl's Jr. is no place for first kisses.

After I said "you should probably kiss me now" while we were parked in my driveway.

Following a long bike ride through the abandoned streets of Silver Lake. We ate sandwiches on freshly baked bread and watched old men play chess before riding home just as the sun was coming up. We crawled into bed beside my red-haired friend, who was sleeping soundly. We had just met that night, and I found you absolutely thrilling.

You grabbed me by the collar, like bullies do to nerds in 80's movies, and kissed me roughly. I liked it. I've stolen that move, by the way. I don't think about you when I use it.

We were standing in your bedroom, which looked out over the lake that I had spent every summer of my life either on a rented paddle boat or casting a line from a rusting fishing rod into. I can't think of that day without the song "Ted Just Admit It" by Jane's Addiction getting stuck in my head.

In the middle of watching The Jerk. It was soft and lovely.

After my very first ride on the back of a scooter. We were standing on the side of the Pacific Coast Highway, listening to the waves crash, while your Vespa sat patiently waiting for its pilot. I realized with an arrow straight to the heart a couple months later that you were probably thinking about your girlfriend at the time.

After we drank a bucket of alcohol. I was hungover but happy the next day.

After a trip to the zoo. Your driving terrified me and your grasp of the English language was questionable...but goddamn, you were hot.

We were sitting in a wine bar and I had a glass of red clasped in my hand, which helped me to relax a little after our rigid first-date sushi dinner, so I was at ease when you slipped your arm around me and scooted closer to me in the booth. I turned my face towards you and you kissed me and I could feel your beard scratching against my face, and it was pretty perfect. I think we both know we’re not right for each other, and I’m really glad we’re friends, but god damn, all I can think of when I see you these days is how effing good you look now that you’ve shaved your beard.

You walked me to my car after a party. I knew you had a thing for me, and after that evening I could have had a thing for you too. That’s why I let you kiss me when we got to my car. You can imagine my surprise, then, when I found out about your girlfriend the next day, after I told a mutual friend about the kiss. I know you think I’m an asshole for blowing you off after that night, but I think you’re an asshole for kissing someone who isn’t your girlfriend, so we’re even.

You showed up to our date thirty minutes late and high as a kite. I forgave you because you had had some unfortunate incidents during the past month. I did have a really nice time, though. I think that’s partly because I knew there wouldn’t be a second date, so I didn’t feel any pressure. I could tell you were smitten with me. I was secretly cursing the fact that I couldn’t be this charming around the dude who had blown me off a week prior. I leaned in and kissed you while we were eating pizza on Hollywood Blvd. My life had never felt more like a romantic comedy, but I’m still not sure which one of us is the protagonist.

I was leaning in the doorway between the dining room and living room of your apartment while you put on a record. Had there been an earthquake at that moment, I wouldn’t have had to move from the safety of that doorway. Instead, though, you leaned down and kissed me. What we lacked in passionate conversation, mostly due to my baffling nervousness around you, we made up for with that make-out session. Even though it didn’t work out, you have to admit, for an all-clothes-kept-on sesh, it was pretty fucking fantastic.

I wish you had kissed me somewhere other than in your car, when you dropped me off at my house that night. Although, it was a passionate and butterfly-inducing enough kiss that I took back my decision not to go on another date with you. Unfortunately that only lasted for one more date. I’m still regretting that decision a little, if it makes you feel any better. You’re a charming guy with a heart of gold. But no. You live in Long Beach. It would never work.

Georgia Hardstark is the contributing editor to This Recording. She blogs here and tumbls here.

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Reader Comments (6)

OHHH MMMYYY GOOOOD! This shit is depressing can we get an article on M.J Please

July 30, 2009 | Unregistered CommenterL. Kennedy

Or Wall Street Power Brokers : )

July 30, 2009 | Unregistered CommenterL. Kennedy

it woud be nice if the female writers at tr wrote about something othern than men and dating. women do think about other things

July 30, 2009 | Unregistered Commenterashley

hey, I never write about dating!

July 31, 2009 | Unregistered CommenterMolly

I say keep on keepin' on TR ladies. It helps us gents remember that you are neither cold judgemental intellectuals nor stay at home cat ladies. It's good to know you're out there.

July 31, 2009 | Unregistered CommenterAllEnglandClub

i love this

August 4, 2009 | Unregistered Commentermegan

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