KissPosted: August 23, 2015
She loved to kiss.
Now that they were seeing each other but others as well, he knew she would be kissing some boys. It pained him, but he understood. It is where they are now. It was what her ego needed and even she was unsure why.
He was kissing others too. The kisses lied, of course, the expected end of dates he really hadn’t enjoyed with women who were smiles and perk and banality. He was feeling the weight of it.
But he was scared. Scared to trust. Scared to give up. Scared to commit himself fully to a maybe. Scared of becoming less him. Scared of not having an escape plan for his ego.
He was committed to himself. To being himself. To not losing himself in service to another. He was always going to have his own place. His retreat.
Over the weekend they had talked. She had expressed fully and articulately what she wanted. Marriage. Someone who would not retreat to his retreat. A true life partner for good and bad.
She made too much sense and it threw him. He wanted to rail against it. Find the logical flaw in her reasoning. He couldn’t.
If he wanted to have the true intimacy he desired, he had to give himself completely. Not have a plan B. To risk everything.
People often talk about wanting to find “their last first kiss.” He didn’t care about that.
All he wanted was to be her last.