Imagine a mid-size party, about fifteen people. I track down my two longest known friends, looking a little panicked.
"I can’t do this anymore. I have to get it out of my system. Tell him that ‘someone’at the party thinks he’s hot, and if he’s game, she’d like to get something out of her head”, I plead.
They both look at me, eyebrows slightly raised and tilting their heads.
“Ummm…Tell him he has two choices, both with the same rules and results. He has to be blindfolded, but can either meet her in a separate room or make it more public in the living room”
“Make what more public?!”, they say, almost in unison.
“A kiss”, I coyly smile.
One returns from her quest, a giant grin on her face.
“He’s game… in public”
“You’re fucking kidding me! The asshole!”, I try to pass a fake smile, hiding my horror.
“Oh, and YOU’RE the rule giver… just to make it more interesting”, she twitches her eyebrow, letting me know she is purposely being that devious.
Cut to the living room, he’s told everyone they are in for a show. He’s on the couch and I’m on a folding chair, about eight feet away. I have someone blindfold him as I list the demands.
“You being the evil guy you are… I know why you’re doing it this way. She was dumb to even offer to let you have witnesses. There’s no honor among these 'thieves'.
Ok, rule one: You cannot see her, and yes it’s a female”
“Good, I was going to have everyone make sure before the kiss”
“Ahem, rule two: You can’t touch her. If we have to, you’ll have your hands tied behind your back”
“I’ll behave… promise”, he smiles and crosses his heart.
“Ok, rule three: You can pick the part of your anatomy…” The group erupts in whoops and hollers. His left eyebrow rises up, intrigued and devilous.
“But if you’re raunchy, she picks!”, I squash his evil thought with a smirk.
“Then I pick the lips”, he half smiles, knowing he’s guaranteed a smooch and winning the silent argument.
“Do you have a person in mind? Someone you’re hoping is the lady that is so smitten she just *has* to kiss you?”
I barely get the sentences out without my voice trembling, scared of the answer.
“I plead the fifth”, he says, clearly smiling.
“Alright, get up. Hands in your pockets. Have to keep you honest. Stand up straight, big boy.”
He gets up, the blindfold slipping just a bit.
“I will give you $40 if you can tell me how many fingers I am holding up.” I hold up three, he guesses five.
“Ok, here we go… people get your cameras out”
He smiles so huge I swear he’s up to something. He feels the tension in the room as people look at each other, trying to figure out who the mystery girl could be. Who is going to risk total embarrassment and try to smooch this tall guy? He clears his throat, fighting the impulse to raise a fist to his mouth as he coughs. He lets his face relax, and I imagine him closing his eyes to try to relish the impending kiss. He sways ever so slightly, letting me know he’s centering himself and trying to block out the whispers and noise in the room, to intently listen to ‘mystery’ girl’s footfalls.
Before I rise from my chair, I slip on a pair of hot pink heels that I stashed. The blanket I had on my lap obscured his view as I pretended to read the rules off a blank piece of paper. I raise my index finger to my lips, motioning for everyone to not say a word.
“Is she hot?” he asks.
“Smoking”, one of my friends replies, and I blow her a kiss for the compliment.
The room falls silent, seeming to breathe as if it were one set of lungs. My heart is beating out of my chest. He smiles again as I take my first step toward him. He hears the plush of the carpet give under the weight of my foot, and he quickly stops smiling. His prize is only moments away. Three more steps and I am at arm’s length. My hands reach for his forearms, my palms making contact as my gaze falls on his mid-chest. I take another step as my hands slide up his arms, to his shoulders while my eyes look up to his shrouded eyes. At least he can’t see my lower lip tremble. Even with the heels, I know I am going to have to pull him down slightly so our lips could touch. I pull lightly on his shoulders as I close the gap. He obliges and I pray he can’t hear my heartbeat or the thoughts racing in my head.
I slip my right hand down to his chest and my left finds its home behind his neck; my fingers buried in his short hair while my palm warms his skin. I balance on the balls of my feet as I kiss his right cheek, then the left. When he begins to protest, citing that wasn’t where he instructed, my right hand caresses his freshly kissed cheek and I pull his head down just an inch more. I see cameras raise as my eyes close. The whirring and clicks, flashes and zooms disappear into nothingness as my lips meet his. We pucker and pull, extending the touch but not going any further. I break away and let my right thumb trace his lower lip as I turn to walk away. The chair suddenly seems miles away, as my knees and mind turn to jello. I slip my heels off, turning back. He seems frozen, slightly hunched over. His hands are still in his pockets, elbows jutting out. He looks like a comical statue. Is trying to commit to memory how tall she must have been, based upon how his body is contorted? He’s silent, and I wonder what is going on in that head.
“Wow” is all he whispers as he straightens, hands glued to his pockets. I flick the blindfold off, ending the little game.
“I want pictures…. Now.” He orders, lowering his voice to show he means it.
Hands fly out, all empty, implying they wish to be paid for this juicy bit of information.
He smiles, turns his head to wink at me and says,
“The blindfold didn’t do its job. It was three fingers. Impressive. Any other secrets you want to share?”
"Just a few more, handsome", as I bite my lip.
Alright, I posted it... Anorexic Romantic Side, drink your poison. I can't keep playing this foolish game with myself.
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