Loosely (and I mean really loose like… you can finish that comparison) based on real events, this post is best read either sitting on the couch under a blanket and happily in love with your boo, or sitting on your bed with a bag of Hot Cheetos and happily on #hoatus. If you’re on the #foreveralone #pityme #imsosingle #crazycatlady train, you better choo choo on outta here because this isn’t really uplifting.
We met accidentally; a friend of a friend of a friend of a friend introduced us for business purposes, but after the business was over, it was obvious that the chemistry existed.
I wasn’t looking for anything, while he was always looking for something.
He bought me coffee and told me I was adorable, we exchanged numbers — for business purposes, of course — and we would talk all the time.
I liked his style, while he liked everything about me.
One night, he called me and asked if I was busy. Sitting on my bed bare faced and pantsless, I began to make an excuse not to hang out because, well, I looked like that, but also I’m lazy as fuck. My thumbs were tap tapping away (hey remember that game Tap Tap what happened to that?!) and I had a moment of clarity, of a need for adventure. That is when I decided to live out the Ancient Chinese proverb:
I told him I’d be ready to hang and do nothing together in about 5 minutes, and sent him my address. A few minutes later, he texted me that he had arrived, and I left the apartment around 11pm on a school night without saying a word to my roommates.
Oh wow, a white BMW.
We drove around Topanga, where we went up and up and up this huge hill, and it was pitch black. Asking if I was cold, he gave me his hoodie while opening up the hood of his car because of course this was a convertible.
We looked up at the stars (cliche as fuck), talked about things, and also talked about nothing. We shared the sky that night, we shared secrets, we shared arm space for my head to rest comfortably, and we shared silent moments. It was about 4am, and I had class the next morning. Though time seemingly stood still, reality was about to kick in and I already knew I’d be unwillingly chugging a few cups of coffee in the morning.
He drives me back and pulls up to my garage, and we unclick our seatbelts to reach over the center compartment and hug goodbye. I wrap my arm around him and say bye, and pull away, our faces inches from each other. We’ve both caught each other staring at one another.
Eyes shift from each others’ to each others’ lips, back to the eyes, then lips, faces get close, heads tilt, eyes back to the eyes, to the lips, then eyes close when the lips make contact.
Slow, slow, slow.
I pull away, smile, get out of the car, and go up to my apartment.
Versus A Kiss.
A friend told us she could get us a table at this one club in Hollywood, and it was coincidentally a friend’s birthday, so we decided to make it an event. We showed up early to get our guys in for free, and we got inside, only to find out that we had to share a table SRSLY?! In the true sense of being LA bitcheZ, we threw a fit and didn’t want to share a table with these basic ass azn baby girls like eWWWWww~
We decided to drink all the alcohol we could and hit the dance floor, where we could truly shine.
Most everyone had a significant other, but our friend group was comfortable enough where the single people didn’t want to roll their eyes and feel sorry for themselves (well maybe some of them). We were wasted, dancing less than appropriately, and obviously catching the eyes of the creepy type of guys who had just run a 10k and were dying of thirst; Gatorade, vodka, toilet water — ANYTHING WOULD DO.
This guy kept making eyes at me through the sea of ratchets wearing clothes that would properly fit a Barbie. I wasn’t being ultra sexy, but I wasn’t NOT being ultra sexy either, ya know?
His eyes locked with mine.
I flashed a coy smile while the laser lights flashed on his face, bouncing a shimmering glare off of his cheek piercing and into my soul.
If this isn’t romance, I don’t know what is.
My best friend sees this CLEAR LOVE CONNECTION and walks across the room to his table and tells him to come dance with me. I’m embarrassed but I figure that ignorance is bliss; I pretend I don’t see what she just did, or the fact that she is leading him towards me. Instead, I pretend that I’m having the time of my life doing the robot.
He introduces himself to me but I don’t hear his name and I don’t care to ask him to repeat it so he will forever be remembered as “Cheek Piercing Man From Lure.” It has a nice ring to it.
We danced as if we were in middle school and we had finally mustered up the courage to dance with each other but there was only 5 more minutes til the lights were going back on and our parents were coming to pick us up.
We were on that grind. Figuratively and literally.
All of a sudden, he turned me around, and looked into my eyes — my eyes btw were probably half open due to the level of inebriation but this is all speculation. As I was considering whether to swipe right or left on his face, he came towards me and embraced me in a passionate and romantic kiss that I never wanted to end.
And by “passionate” and “romantic,” I mean “sloppy” and “cannibalistic,” because ya girl’s face basically got eaten.
Ahh, yes, that raw zest for life.
(In case the first song ended…)
Ok, I Think I See The Difference…
Yeah. So I think it’s kind of clear what the difference between a kiss and a kiss is after hearing these two stories. I suppose bolding/italicizing/capitalizing one of them to differentiate it from the other might have been wise.
After a few deep thoughts that were provoked by my #hoatus, my friends, and a few late nights lying in bed in the darkness and thinking about life, I started to ponder on the concepts of kisses. From the nights where you drunkenly make out with a random person and you laugh about it the next day, to the small pecks you give your significant other when saying, “Hi,” from a long day, a kiss is a kiss is a kiss, right?
Except, I mean, it’s not.
Of course, each side of the spectrum is going to have an opinion. People in relationships may not realize that the small kisses they give their significant others are what the “I’m having fun!” folks are longing for. The “I’m having fun!” folks may not realize that the people in relationships, though faithful to their SO’s, may reminisce on the days where they would fuck around and drunkenly make out with strangers.
Neither of these are wrong; there’s no judgment on either end.
I guess on one of those late nights, I was just laying in bed trying to remember when the last time I had feelings for someone was. Like real people feelings, not like a crush or like an, “Oh man I would love for him to father my children and support me financially” kind of thing. When was the last time I was intellectually stimulated by someone, and the level of stimulation matched or even slightly exceeded the level of attraction? When was the last time I felt butterflies in my tummy? I can’t even remember where I put my net to go butterfly catching or when the last time someone even enticed me and said, “C’Mon(arch)! At least try and catch me!”
And it’s not that I’m saying the single life is terrible; it’s a swell time if you have the right attitude and it can be really fun if you’re super carefree! #HOATUS IS FUN TOO!
It’s just, at some points, it gets tired. It gets old. And the lips your lips make contact with become numbers, not names. You become desensitized; you may feel it on your lips, but you can’t feel it anywhere else.
It’s just a very different thing, drunkenly making out and having a good time versus working at getting to know someone and being careful to not mess anything up and then finally, just.. you know?
It all depends on where you’re at in life, of course, which is why this isn’t really an uplifting piece for people who are sad and single. Your happiness is dependent on your own personal attitude, and shouldn’t be measured in comparison to the perceived happiness of others.
For me, I’m not unhappy, but honestly, I’m not happy either. It’s strange to be yearning for the magical first kiss that has built up from a few weeks or months or years of getting to know each other, rather than yearning for the magical first (and possibly last) kiss from the really sexy man across the pool at Encore Beach Club. Although one time, I DID see this sexy ex Bachelorette contestant at EBC and he was really gorgeous and I’m sure I would have thrown myself at him if I wasn’t so…
no wait why didn’t I throw myself at him I don’t know.
My happily ‘shipped friends, stay happy. Stay pecking “hello” and “goodbye.” Stay cute or lowkey or very PDA — whatever your deal is. Share that 2,000th kiss and take a moment to make it last a little longer.
My happily #hoated friends, stay happy. Keep focusing on yourself, keep on being an observer and just doing you because it’s really actually fucking fun going to bars and clubs with the clear mission not to hook up or flirt with anyone.
My unhappily forever alone friends, cheer up. There’s no extra amount of energy that needs to be used on the fact that you’re single. Being lonely is different than being alone, which is something you’re not. Go on with your bad self and join the revolution #hoatus.
And whatever you do, don’t get upset and depressed and write a blog post on how you’d rather kiss with feelings than get felt up creepily while kissing a stranger. Yikes!