I almost kissed a guy and I liked it (but he turned out to be gay)

8 Dec

It’s 4 am and I’m not up for a feeding, nope. I’m up because I’ve been out partying like some 20-year-old. Baby’s with his dad, sleeping over at his grandma’s and I had a free night, not my first one since the birth, but the first one where I was completely relaxed and did not check my phone for messages even once.

I’m in my purple PJ’s, but still wearing my makeup and funky earings, and smelling of cigarettes (not mine, just general club-smell).

But let me get to the point which you are all so eager to hear about, I assume. After having shrimp in oyster sauce with M for dinner, met up with some more friends at D’s house. D is a super sweet expat dude, who’s here for the year on work, and has a to-die-for apartment in the very center of the very center of the city, with an awesome balcony, and a door that is never locked, and a living room that is never empty or quiet. So this week he’s hosting three French couch-surfers.

S caught my eye right away, with his generally-happy-disposition (there’s something really attractive about people who are simply happy). So after a few drinks and then some, we are standing in  a long line to get into a noisy club with bad music, and an entrance fee, and S is talking about how some people go through their entire lives never actually “living”, just going through the motions, never feeling trully happy. No shit. I think. Now that’s close to home. I don’t mention that it’s people like that who have a breakdown when their first child is born and end up leaving their wives and babies.

Anyway, inside the club, music blasting, I’ve had about 4 shots of whiskey, and I’m not too drunk, just drunk enough to be a little more out there, a little less reserved, and S and I are dancing away, carelessly touching one another on the arm or shoulder, laughing. When he leaves for the bathroom, my friends are all over me: You’ve been dancing forever, do something. I’m soooo rusty. I have no clue what to do. But then he’s back, that was quick, and we’re dancing again, and before I know it, everyone’s left us alone and he has his hand on my back, as I lean into his ear. I’m planning to say something like: So… Are you going to kiss me or what? But his English is bad, and the music is loud, and I get  a feeling I will not have the guts to ask a second time, so I go for the very straight-forward: Let’s kiss. He doesn’t hear me in the noise. Mmmm. Kiss me. I repeat. He puts his arms around me and gives me a hug. He holds me and looks at my face. For a second I hold my breath and think – this is it, thirteen years later, and here I am kissing another guy, but, instead, he smiles apologetically and says into my ear: I’m gay.

I smile. This is just my luck. That’s great, I say and smile. I’m not being sarcastic, this is really 100%  “génial”. Now I don’t really have to deal with the reprecussions of being with someone else. He doesn’t understand, so I repeat: That’s great. I smile. Now I don’t have to be nervous around you, I add and hug him. As he hugs me back, I can almost imagine what it would have been like to kiss him. He’d be soft, warm, wet. He’d have a bit of  a cigarettish taste, which I most likely would not like, he’d hold me close, I can tell he’s the type to hold you close when you’re kissing. Well, nope.

So, I didn’t kiss a guy tonight. But I made an effort. I was brave enough to do it. I don’t think I would have chickened out. And anyway, I had an awesome night, dancing with my girls and my guy D and my new gay friend S. And it was good.


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