Friday night I (nigh, almost unbelievably) saw C-2 for the first time since June. It was his birthday. I was out with other friends and knowing that, checked in with him at just after midnight to see if he was out. Lo, he was not, but came out for a Guinness with me at Foley's anyway. The bar closed and we headed to the warmth of my car to finish our conversation. When at 3:30 he needed to head home, I suggested he kiss me goodnight before leaving the car.
He closed the door and obliged. A powerful kiss, leaning over the gearshift, with intent. At first breakaway he pulled away an inch, mumbling,
"I forgot how well you and I kiss together."Before I could mumble my assent, he grabbed my neck and leaned in again and I grabbed the back of his head to get him as close as possible as soon as possible.
An hour later, as a street sweeper and various late-night drinkers passed by on Kingston Street, we were still kissing like high schoolers at Inspiration Point, having fogged all 6 car windows and the glass of the sunroof.
I had not forgotten how well C-2 and I kiss together. I could not help myself, and wanted it to go on as long as stamina and wakefulness allowed.
This morning I woke up with bruised lips and have been thinking most of today about the depth and intensity of the kissing. I have kissed some good kissers in my life, yet this was dangerously good. Also, how for someone with aspirations for a serious boyfriend who doesn't believe or think C-2 will ever fulfill every or even any of the other requirements to be one (and is what one of my boy friends calls "a distraction") and know for that reason alone, plus our history of plan-making impossibility due to his work, plus the simple fact that a good kisser with good rapport does not necessarily a good relationship make, I shouldn't ever let myself again into a car with C-2 or ask him to kiss me goodnight again.
Might be a unrealistic resolution.