Okay, so I lied. No one can be that good of a kisser. I suppose it is what’s in the kiss. A little thing called the zsa zsa zsu, the butterflies, the zing, the chill factor.
The chilling butterflies are still zinging zsa zsa zsu and I don’t even know how or why.
I saw ‘the kiss’ over the weekend at a very special event with no special kiss. With number of friends reduced to a minimum here in NY, I was fortunate enough to have two very special people plan a surprise to ring in the official mark of a new age bracket. Solidly, I am in the mid-twenties. The pros? *scratch forehead* The cons? Meeting others my age steadfast in a career, gradually being invited to weddings, feeling silly shopping at a store called Forever 21 and well, not being 21. Moreover, feeling inane about feeling this way about a boy.
With 'the kiss,' that night was about being single and trying to mingle- sometimes I think the rhymes help. Checking in on him from time to time yet, being elusive it was reminiscent of juvenile games of tag with boys I crushed on in elementary. I am a 25 year old flirting with boys on the playground.
