I reached the ripe old age of twenty before ever locking lips with a boy. Despite my inexperience I knew one thing for certain of my first smooch, he was one bad kisser and presumably would make a terrible lover. Things never physically escalated that far, thank goodness. I would have regretted that decision as much as I did puckering up with this Casanova.
It is beyond arrogant for me to say so, but I can confidently confirm that the problem was not me. I am tender and exceptional. More importantly, I do not engage in a game of tonsil tag with the other person. At one point I had gritted my teeth as a barrier to his domineering tongue and as a hint to simmer down the aggression, but the linguistics of subtly went unnoticed.
Nevermore. Lesson learned.
First and, obviously, last kiss with Sloppy Joe.
First and, obviously, last kiss with Sloppy Joe.
