All I Did Was Kiss You!

During my last year in graduate school, I was in a funk. I had a slightly cracked heart, and felt I needed a change of scenery. I ended up hanging out at this “hole in a wall” coffeehouse called Casablanca. This place had it all: dirty hippies, pseudo Goths, chip collecting AA members, wannabe poets, and a wannabe screenwriter. Maybe I needed to go somewhere that had people completely different than those at grad school. I made some friends there, and one of them became my best friend Bob. Before Bob and the others, I met Brianna. She was a skinny thing with curly black hair. We eventually started hanging out a bit. We’d go to the bookstore, talk for hours at Casablanca, and hang out at her house. It was when I went to her play that I thought I might have a chance. I showed up a little early and sat in the back. While they were setting things up she kept pointing me out to her cast mates. I was in like Flint.

I eventually decided to move things along by actually asking her out on a date. She was a fan of Ben Folds Five, so I bought tickets. As her phone rang, I was suddenly struck with a wave of fear. When this kind of fear hits, I usually do one thing: Lie. Rather than ask her out to Ben Folds Five, I told her I had won tickets, and wondered if she wanted the extra ticket. You see it technically wasn’t a date now, so she wouldn’t feel uncomfortable. I even worked it out so that we would meet there at the concert. Yes. I know. I suck.

We met at the concert. We danced. We sang along. An enjoyable time was had by all. Watching her dance, I made the decision that I would kiss her. I would kiss her tonight. During the encore, I formulated my plan to kiss her when I walked her to her car. There’s always that pause when they get in car. When she pauses I will be a man, and I will kiss her! Yeah!

Only she never paused. How do you not pause? She just hopped in her car and drove off. How could this happen? I was going to actually make the first move, and I am denied? This could not be. I ran to my car, and drove off after her. My hope was that I could catch up to her, and kiss her at her house. My pizza delivery skills finally paid off, and I caught up to her as she was getting out of her car. Not saying a word, I strolled up to her and kissed her. I even impressed myself. That is me being a man! What is up! Brianna apparently wasn’t so impressed. The kiss was awful. I got a warmer response kissing my hand. After our lips separated, my lips thawed, and an awkward pause she asked, “So you want to have sex?” What? When did a single kiss (with no tongue) imply the desire for sex? “No!” I said, “I just like you and wanted to ki-” “Because I have herpes,” she stated. WHAT! Fighting the urge to wipe my mouth, I stammered out an apology. I said I was simply attracted to her, thought she was nice, and wanted to see about taking things further. She had to think about it. She said she’d call me. She never did. Actually she did, only it was six months later. She called six months later to apologize. Six months! I had honestly forgotten about it by then. I still hung out at Casablanca, and she stopped showing up. There were a few times that she’d pop in, and that was always a wonderfully awkward experience.