I've Got You On My Lips

I’m calling ‘slut’ on myself.  And it’s not that I feel bad about it, or regret my more recent decisions.  But I have always been one to call a spade a spade, and this spade has been a little slutty.

I am putting my romantic money where my mouth is these days and spending less time searching for my one true love, and just enjoying the things in my life that are actually working.  It has made my relationships with men way more fun because there isn’t that immediate pressure from me with ‘will we won’t we be together forever’ right from the get-go.  So I’ve continued chatting up new guys on the same old dating site I have used for years, and have enjoyed interactions with old friends and new acquaintances.  Now, clearly I am not sleeping with all of these people.  Not only would that be disgusting, but who has that kind of time?  But I will never deny the fact that kissing boys is amongst my most favoritest hobbies.

I had gone on a date Thursday night.  And I discovered very quickly into the date that this guy was a little boring.  In his defense, he was fascinating in text-form.  But his personality did not translate from my phone screen to my couch.  Conversation was lacking, I spent more time asking him questions I didn’t really care to know the answers to for the sake of filling the silences.  Once I realized that wasn’t working anymore (his mouth was moving-and I was grocery shopping in my head) I gave him the “you can kiss me now"eyes and was relieved that his kissing ability was far better than his communication.

There were no butterflies, my heart wasn’t set a flutter at the touch of his lips on mine.  But it was hot.  And my eyes were closed, so for those 30 minutes of heavy petting, he may as well have been Jude Law. Same thing went for the party I was at last night.  I had spent time working the room and deciding which company was worth keeping once the tapped PBR took its full affect on me.  In sizing up my options, I realized I was thinking less about whose jokes would be funniest, or could potentially play human ponytail if the crap beer and I didn’t get along, and more about who would be the most fun to make out with in a dark corner once everyone was nice and blitzed.  I narrowed down my options, and tested my few theories.  My few.  That means there was more than one guy in more than one dark corner. 

This is why I am calling 'slut' on myself.  There is no reason I should have had more than one guys mouth on mine over the past two days.  On the other hand, it should be recognized that I’ve still got it.  And it’s harmless, in the grand scheme of things.  I guess I want to be the first to call myself out on this behavior.  It is more likely than not that I will continue to be mouth-slutty for a while.  Which I am perfectly content with, mouth-slutty is cleaner and safer than vajayjay-slutty.  And it does feel good to know, that after all the broken hearts and romantic indecision, the boys still want to kiss me.