Aloha!It’s me again. Your friendly freak that is dating a 22 year old. Let me rewind. His name is Marty, and is a friend of a friend that I saw in a photo and thought, sweet…We did a bit of Instant Messaging, and then I found out the real name, and almost had a coronary. I asked him to check his birth certificate, just to be sure. We spoke online and on the phone for about two weeks and he was so mature, witty, nice…there was NO WAY HE WAS A GUY.
So we finally decided to meet in a really chilled-out bar/lounge that is my favorite secret place to just be me, without the paparazzi trying to get my mug shot–but I have taken so many people there, I need to find a better place. By now, I am left with the option of a park bench. But back to the topic at hand. Marty came in and was even cuter than the picture but looked EVEN YOUNGER than 22! We sat, the dim lighting casting a warm glow on my face and missing the fine lines and undereye circles. Spoke a bit more, but we were talked out. (Yes, I CAN be talked out. ‘Tis a miracle. I know.)
So, uh, you know how they say “All roads lead to prison and all conversations lead to sex”–or something like that? I didn’t wan’t to ask him what he had done or hadn’t done. I’m not a cross between Doktorrr Russ and Howahd Stern. He was shy around girls, and a bit self conscious (so what if he was calvous–I am trying to impress you here. Calvous=bald. I just came out and pulled a Gigi (no, didnt fall and trip over my gift for my boyfriend–an athletic supporter.) I asked him if he liked me. He smiled.
And then came The Hallmark Kiss. He said he would “show me” how much he liked me”, and he leaned in for the sweetest longest, um, Chicken-Soup-For-The-Soul Kiss. Very emotional for him. His eyes closed. My eyes open–no comprendo. It was nice, but it was more of a longggggggggggg peck that was a French Wannabe.
When he finally detached himself, he said, and I quote, “You are the first girl I kissed.”
This is Gigi, signing off, as there is nothing more to say. Yet.