Kissing Three:Guyman

As you may have guessed from previous posts, Guyman and I had a long, sordid history. Example:

Grace: Let's get engaged over Facebook!

Guyman: Let's pretend it was real!

Both: Yay!

Grace: People are yelling at me! We should call it off.

Guyman: I don't wanna.

Grace: Too effing bad.

After our ordeal, something just felt wrong between us. We had a fight that Thursday- he told me he didn't want to be close friends anymore. I didn't understand. That night I cried harder than I had in a long time. I thought Guyman was different. And then he turned around the next day and told me he was sorry for acting the way he did. I was wary of him until that weekend, when we participated in Read Across America at the library together. We had spent Friday night together and we had talked some on Saturday, but during the lulls when kids weren't making elephant birds out of cotton balls, he told me some of his darkest secrets, secrets he had never told anyone else. All of a sudden, I trusted him more than anyone else. After we were finished helping kids, we headed upstairs in the library and found a secluded corner where we could continue to talk, and actually say what we wanted away from prying ears. A non awkward silence happened somewhere in the course of the hour we were upstairs. I thought back to our engagement, and how eager he was to kiss me, how I was still confused exactly how I felt about him, and how he had brought up that he was still curious about it earlier that day. I broke the silence.

"So you said you were curious about kissing me. . ."

"Should we?" His trademark lopsided grin arrived on his face.

"I don't know. Do you want to?" I was a bit nervous. I had never kissed a guy with an open mouth before. And for the umpteenth time that week, my life was reminding me of a romantic comedy. In romantic comedies, the moment where the girl and the guy kiss is when they figure out whether they like each other or not. I was scared of what I would find out when his lips met mine.

It was wet. He was standing and I was sitting and I had no clue where to put my hands or what to do with my mouth. I opened it like I had seen people in the movies kiss, and my lips became encased in a thin layer of saliva. We kissed two or three times, and then he backed away, leaving me to wipe my mouth of foreign liquids.

"I didn't expect kissing to involve so much spit. I don't think I like kissing much. Maybe that's because I was sitting though. Do you want to try it standing up?"

"Why not?"

To be honest, it wasn't much different. There wasn't quite so much spit, but I still didn't really know what to do and it wasn't particularly enjoyable. I made a mental note to not do it again when he suggested afterwards that the extra spit was on purpose. I determined I was not falling for Guyman because I didn't enjoy kissing him, blinded by my unwillingness to suggest to myself that he was bad at anything, including kissing. This realization put a grin on my face for days.

Or maybe it was the kiss. . .even if it was like kissing a snail.