I think for a minute there I forgot how much I enjoyed making out with someone.
Kissing can feel like the ends of two extremes in my world. On one side, it's this quick saccharine thing that is meant to signify a quick snapshot of affection in an intimate relationship. On the other end, it's a prelude into sex. Very few windows of opportunity present themselves for me to explore it in that in-between realm. Not since I was a teenager anyway.
Why is that?
A couple of weeks ago, I was randomly invited out to an art show happening in the city by someone I had been amicable with - acquaintances if you will. I accepted the invite without realizing I had other plans and at the end of the day, had to cancel on him. But I was still interested in connecting. A conversation we had had made me think to myself, Hmm, why don't I know this human better?
So, I sought to change that and if our schedules aligned, so be it. We ended up meeting up roughly a week later near my job at an art gallery nearby. It's free, and I love that "f" word almost as much as the other one, so I was game. He was game. It was a brief walk around the rather empty gallery, examining all the pieces there and giving our unique interpretations of what it was we saw on each canvas. A favorite of his of mine was, "I get 70's hoe from this," which was what I said after looking at what I felt was a silhouette of a woman under neon lights veiled behind open blinds. "70's hoe vibe" became an insider for much of our exploitative day.
When it started pouring outside, I thought that would be the end of it, but we raced to his car to find and create more plans. I was fine either way. We decided to grab a bite to eat, and then, to my surprise, he asked me if I wanted to do anything else. I was having a great time with my bespectacled friend, so I said yeah. We decided to look around Little 5 together. Somehow that evolved to getting a bottle and listening to some tunes in his car. I don't know what to say, it was fun. It was so chill listening to R&B sounds of the past I never heard before and him picking on my somewhat eclectic music taste. It was one of those days you can't write because the simplicity of it is deceptive when you stop to explain it to someone. You had to be there. You had to feel it.
Anyway, my brazen ass, half a bottle of Jose Cuervo deep decided to ask him, "So, why haven't you made a move yet?"
To be real, I don't need alcohol to be bold, but maybe I did need that special brand of courage there because truthfully I didn't know where we were or what we were doing or where we were going. But uncertainty was intriguing to me in that space. I danced with it and didn't try to run like I'm used to. He was surprised and laughed to himself just a little.
Moments later, his hand found mine, he played in my hair, he grazed my cheek with a tender finger and pulled my chin towards him. He leaned into me, and just rubbed his nose against mine, teasing me with the return of the kiss I searched for. It was playful, but incredibly heated and sensual at the same time. "Redbone" playing in the background became a soundtrack of convenience and provided a heartbeat to the heat that started to smolder.
And we did that right there for hours, battling and caressing tongues, cradling soft and bristled cheeks, tugging forcefully at hair, rubbing private places - trying to get closer to something.
It was so intimate even without that final step, and perhaps that's why I liked it so much. It was the biggest tease of them all to be at the brink of ecstasy and to have to pull it back. At least I was granted a sweet reminder. Kissing is art.
Sometimes it's a whole unexplored world of its own to be learned and discovered. No ellipses, just straight up punctuation.