Kiss Somebody
This is Part Two in my series about how I've had horrible taste in men.
My friend is doing a series called "I'm not afraid to turn 30" that's about the shit she'd put up with in her 20s. I'm hoping this can be that: Something I look in the rearview and think "I will not date a guy who wears squirrel skin boots tells me I'm most attractive to him when unconscious again."
Now, I was late to the party when it came to kissing/ actual sexual interactions. Mostly because as you've read in part one-- I had terrible taste in men. In fact before Senior Year of High School, I'd only kissed people in plays or during kissing rugby (a violent sport that was more drunkenly attacking each other than kissing). Senior Year I went to a party and, not understanding science/ airflow, got stoned when my friends "hot-boxed" a basement. It was at that party I ended up in a bathroom with a boy (whose name I still don't know). It was such bad kissing experience that I cried through it because I thought I might be asexual. To be clear, being asexual is fine. But it turns out I'm not asexual, it was just a very bad first kiss. That year, I also had a big tragic kiss in a hospital bed with a friend who was on morphine. But that one was more of a "coping with tragedy kiss" rather than "beginnings of teen sexuality kiss".
So when I got to college I was mostly unkissed. I'm ashamed to admit that I spent most of college hung up on Max and missed dating a lot because of it. Max only kissed with his mouth closed and was so filled with Christian guilt that he got married to have sex. I am, however, happy I ignored Max's slut-shaming and ran around college kissing lots of people. My dear friend and I loved the Regina Spektor song that says "If you kiss somebody, Then both of you'll get practice." He and I would passionately make-out, then give each other notes. I decided to collect kisses like a lady pirate in red lipstick and pajama pants going to houses I didn't know the host and making out with them. I am proud to have spent a night dancing with and kissing a future Chippendales dancer who is still a stone cold fox. I spent a tried triple kissing and danger kissing (making out while in a tree). I kissed girls, but sadly found myself a 1 one the Kinsey scale.
After college, I still had terrible taste in men, but at least I gained a job, a wine bottle opener, and hideous pantsuit. Bad men choices include from this time: a massage therapist who'd sleep with his clients, a vegan who offered me a spot "in his rotation", a friend who dressed as Dobby for a Christmas party, and a billionaire. The billionaire is the only one I have good stories for. The rest involve me telling my friends "I liked this compliment he gave me!" To which they'd respond "That was a compliment?" The billionaire was a guy I met through a friend of a friend in Singapore while I was studying abroad. He broke up with me because he was "catching feelings" and I wasn't Chinese. My time with him was like if Crazy, Rich Asians had a wacky, sunburned girl in a handkerchief dress who was always slipping on the fancy marble floors. He was a good guy and I can't blame him for choosing to not give up his inheritance to be with me. Oh God-- I will do an embarrassing moments post next... because Jesus I made an ass out of myself there... Also maybe a Singapore post because everything sounds more exotic and fun than it was.
Next, I transferred to New York and that's where I met the bastard. The pinnacle and turning point of bad boy decisions. I don't have anything fun or funny to write about him. He sexually assaulted me the night before Santa Con. He sexually assaulted another one of my friends/ fellow classmates. Neither of us said anything. The good thing is that I think if he'd done that in 2021, we would have.
Leaving that behind (after many years and more therapy) I finally found my taste in men had shifted. I'm choosing to no longer like terrible men-- Perhaps because now I now know the consequences. The Brit was a handsome, sharp immunologist who made me laugh about blood and who taught me about "dead watch". He offered me a trachea as a present and I enjoyed forcing American food like smores on him. He undid so much damage just by being understanding and polite. We weren't right for each other, but he's why I think I've hopefully turned my taste in men up and notch and will no longer let bad judgement reign.
My friend is doing a series called "I'm not afraid to turn 30" that's about the shit she'd put up with in her 20s. I'm hoping this can be that: Something I look in the rearview and think "I will not date a guy who wears squirrel skin boots tells me I'm most attractive to him when unconscious again."
Now, I was late to the party when it came to kissing/ actual sexual interactions. Mostly because as you've read in part one-- I had terrible taste in men. In fact before Senior Year of High School, I'd only kissed people in plays or during kissing rugby (a violent sport that was more drunkenly attacking each other than kissing). Senior Year I went to a party and, not understanding science/ airflow, got stoned when my friends "hot-boxed" a basement. It was at that party I ended up in a bathroom with a boy (whose name I still don't know). It was such bad kissing experience that I cried through it because I thought I might be asexual. To be clear, being asexual is fine. But it turns out I'm not asexual, it was just a very bad first kiss. That year, I also had a big tragic kiss in a hospital bed with a friend who was on morphine. But that one was more of a "coping with tragedy kiss" rather than "beginnings of teen sexuality kiss".
So when I got to college I was mostly unkissed. I'm ashamed to admit that I spent most of college hung up on Max and missed dating a lot because of it. Max only kissed with his mouth closed and was so filled with Christian guilt that he got married to have sex. I am, however, happy I ignored Max's slut-shaming and ran around college kissing lots of people. My dear friend and I loved the Regina Spektor song that says "If you kiss somebody, Then both of you'll get practice." He and I would passionately make-out, then give each other notes. I decided to collect kisses like a lady pirate in red lipstick and pajama pants going to houses I didn't know the host and making out with them. I am proud to have spent a night dancing with and kissing a future Chippendales dancer who is still a stone cold fox. I spent a tried triple kissing and danger kissing (making out while in a tree). I kissed girls, but sadly found myself a 1 one the Kinsey scale.
After college, I still had terrible taste in men, but at least I gained a job, a wine bottle opener, and hideous pantsuit. Bad men choices include from this time: a massage therapist who'd sleep with his clients, a vegan who offered me a spot "in his rotation", a friend who dressed as Dobby for a Christmas party, and a billionaire. The billionaire is the only one I have good stories for. The rest involve me telling my friends "I liked this compliment he gave me!" To which they'd respond "That was a compliment?" The billionaire was a guy I met through a friend of a friend in Singapore while I was studying abroad. He broke up with me because he was "catching feelings" and I wasn't Chinese. My time with him was like if Crazy, Rich Asians had a wacky, sunburned girl in a handkerchief dress who was always slipping on the fancy marble floors. He was a good guy and I can't blame him for choosing to not give up his inheritance to be with me. Oh God-- I will do an embarrassing moments post next... because Jesus I made an ass out of myself there... Also maybe a Singapore post because everything sounds more exotic and fun than it was.
Next, I transferred to New York and that's where I met the bastard. The pinnacle and turning point of bad boy decisions. I don't have anything fun or funny to write about him. He sexually assaulted me the night before Santa Con. He sexually assaulted another one of my friends/ fellow classmates. Neither of us said anything. The good thing is that I think if he'd done that in 2021, we would have.
Leaving that behind (after many years and more therapy) I finally found my taste in men had shifted. I'm choosing to no longer like terrible men-- Perhaps because now I now know the consequences. The Brit was a handsome, sharp immunologist who made me laugh about blood and who taught me about "dead watch". He offered me a trachea as a present and I enjoyed forcing American food like smores on him. He undid so much damage just by being understanding and polite. We weren't right for each other, but he's why I think I've hopefully turned my taste in men up and notch and will no longer let bad judgement reign.