The Dapper Lad

Gentlemen, Ladies, I am an idiot. For the second time in my life, I laughed at the beginning of a romantic… situation. I’m all for a shared joke during sex, when things are, you know, easily heightened by an inside joke. But, let’s be honest, the beginning – the first introduction, the first kiss – of any romantic situation, whether it ends 2 hours or 2 years later, is not the best time for laughter.

Granted, the first time I laughed inappropriately was in high school when a cute boy asked me out in the middle of the hallway amongst our friends and I FELL DOWN I laughed so hard. Nothing could ever be that embarrassing (for either of us) or that hilarious (just for me) again. No, last night, I merely giggled when the man I leaned in to hug turned his face just so to be able to kiss me. I was tipsy, I’d waited two weeks for him to make a move, he’d walked me to my car, we were saying goodnight…it all added up to a hilarious cliché, and I succumbed to the giggles.

I can’t even really remember the kiss. From what I recall, it was nothing to write home about (no tongue, which is when I start composing letters). No, what I’m writing about is the fact that twenty-four hours later, two weeks after meeting this guy, I still don’t know if I want to kiss him again. I was convinced, in fact, twenty-eight hours ago, that (while I was sure he was into me) I Just Wanted To Be Friends, and that as such, I should not call him, text him, Facebook him, MySpace him, etc., as that could only confuse the situation. I got the same answer from the 7 people I polled. Everyone was convinced: the ball was in his court.

But the more people I asked, the more I started thinking that perhaps I was not convinced. Maybe I liked him. Maybe I liked him liking me. Maybe all I wanted was the attention. And the question here is: What the hell is wrong with that? Well, we’re all adults. I think we know the answer to that question.

Nothing.

Unless the response to “Maybe I liked him” is a definite “Sorry, nope.” I thought for a while that it was (I had two specific reasons, one based in ridiculousness and one based in reality), and then I started thinking that maybe the response was actually “Yeah, maybe.”

So I caved. I texted him. And it was like pulling teeth to get him to come out and meet us. Which, frankly, just made it better. Thrill of the chase, anyone? When he finally got there, I danced my ass off, I kissed girls (no tongue there, either), I talked about my boobs, I ran my fingers through his hair, I introduced him to all my friends, I bought him a drink, and I when I sat, I sat next to him for the rest of the night.

Is it any wonder that he kissed me? Or that I giggled? And with cognitive skills like these, is it any wonder that I sill don’t know if I want to kiss him again?