How is that possible??

I will now regale you with a mental Rubik’s Cube that I have yet to solve.

The onset of this regret filled adventure began with an invitation to a girl I have been hanging out with for a few weeks to come over and watch a movie. I will neither divulge the movie nor her name because she might someday stumble across this and make the connection. Although, I’m having a hard time concocting a satisfactory reason of why that would be a bad thing. She needs to know. Clearly I am not strong enough to tell her. She has to wonder why each guy recoils in fear after the initial kiss like some masked assailant was brandishing a large Crocodile Dundee knife behind her. Enough rambling, here’s what happened.

I am popping the DVD in when she asks for a blanket because she’s cold. This is always an invitation. I didn’t always know this and at first thought it odd that when they where clearly the only ones making use of the provided blanket they would then ask:

-Aren’t you cold?
-No.
-You have to be because I’m freezing. Here I’ll share the blanket. (Side note: Did you girls all have a meeting and all vote to adopt this same strategy?)

Here I normally oblige and snuggle in but not this night. I was hot.

If only there was an icon that could best illustrate the aforementioned scenario in one color or picture, I could more concisely articulate its meaning. Oh wait, there is. A green traffic light. If there is any guy found in this situation, you can bet with full confidence there will be an exaggerated, inaccurate portrayal of his role in the proceedings the next day to his buddies. This is the exception, I have nothing to brag about. Anyway with this question and ensuing invitation she is gently, subtly indicating she is ready for some close interaction. My definition of close interaction may differ from yours. Mine was revised about 4.5 years ago when I decided to be a good boy. My close interaction now consists of making out and that’s it. Periodically I wear my straight jacket out to social events. What? I think it’s a good look. Okay dillhole back to the story.

So the movie gets going. It’s a good one from the get go. A short while into it and during a lag in the movie, the question is posed again."Aren't you cold?" "No I’m good thanks," I responded as I sidled up next to her. Mind you, still outside of the confines of the blistering furnace that is the underside of the blanket. Another invitation to share the blanket ensues. I don’t want to be under the blanket cause then I'll get even hotter and won't be able to relax. After sidling up, she proceeds to put me in a grappling maneuver that would make Royce Gracie jealous. I think to myself, relax baby, I’m not trying to escape. I live here. It must not have donned on her that she’s the one that leaves at the end of the night and not yours truly. This could be soon if she doesn’t undo the wrestling hold she has me in. Is this some new enhanced rendition of the figure four I wonder? I desperately summon some Wrestlemania movies I watched when I was younger and tried to recall an escape tactic from the myriad that Hulk Hogan and The Ultimate Warrior employed. Dang it. Nothing. My legs transition from that pins and needles feeling to no feeling. I look down to make sure they haven't been fallen off and left some gangrenous stumps. At that moment, I could empathize with those with lower extremity paralysis. Her physical smothering had rendered my legs numb and useless. While I contemplated how long legs could survive without oxygen after they were already numb, our lips found their counterpart. The only way I can describe the debacle that I think was making out is by thinking she thought she was a great distance underwater and out of oxygen. She must have thought my mouth was an oxygen delivery apparatus and that she was seconds away from inhaling lungs full of water. Instead of a sensual, intimate kiss, it was an aggressive, rapey mouth assault. Kissing is not a race. It is a beautiful exchange of saliva and facial expressions. Her 29 years have not yet provided enough time for her to be a good kisser. I don’t know if humans live long enough for her to ever achieve horrible kisser status let alone decent status. Even if she practiced all day every day for the rest of her life, she would fall short. I had better kissing partners when I was in 6th grade! How could this have happened? Apparently natural selection selected her to remain single. Not really, evolution is a fallacy and another post altogether. The kissing didn’t get any better either which frustrated me. There is a natural progression of the first make out session between two people. There is that first awkward exchange where you both see how the other kisses. You shortly arrive at a midpoint between the two styles then move to showcasing your self-proclaimed amazing techniques. This has never been explained to her or maybe she's never kissed before. A toss up. I thought she would eventually calm down and we could get into some comfortable kissing but she gained aggression with each exchange. It was a shade under violent. I was frightened. I've heard of sexual predators but never a kissing predator. Do I mace her? Do I kick her in her female equivalent of balls? My indecision and inability to fend her off induced more agressive mouth rapings. The fabricated oxygen deprivation meter in her mind continued to register higher levels of deprivation because with each exchange she attacked my mouth with heightened fervor. She must have taken an adrenaline pill at some point under my nose that kept dissolving and delivering more fuel for the assault. At one point, I couldn’t help but laugh. She asked why I was laughing. Some unintelligible prattle escaped my lips. What could I say? Even better what could I do? I came up with; watch the movie and act like a sudden debilitating wave of exhaustion had spontaneously enveloped me.

How one can be 29 and still be a horrible kisser is beyond my understanding. Her inability to kiss properly has aptly earned her curb status. I have neither the time nor the inclination to adopt the monumental undertaking necessary to teach her. I may be a Jedi in the ways of making out but I'm not a miracle worker.