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Saturday night, hit up a girlie's party in Jersey. Met someone whom I may have kissed over New Year's, but I don't think so. Then again, been wrong before. An hour into it, get a call from SX. She's in Jersey too.
Her: Let's meet up half-way.
Me: (thinking) OK, I'm game.
We end up at a diner just east of no-freaking-where. Her blond hair falls into her eyes when she walks in, laughs and says, This is crazy. I smile and nod. In one of our conversations, I tell her that I occasionally kiss the women I meet.
Her: You're a tongue-whore.
Me: Do people say that?
It's almost 5AM when we call it a night. Sunday, wake up, do my situps and clean up my train-wreck of a pad. Meet up with a Hazel-Eyed Italian for caramels who lives around the way with an easy laugh. She asks about my dating life so I take a deep breath and tell her.
Her: Oh...you're a tongue-slut.
Me: Wow, people really do say that. And I prefer whore, thank you.
We walk around the big city for a bit. Pointing at some violets, she says that she never sees enough of them here. I smile in agreement before she slips underground and I dash off to church.
I slide into a pew and sit by my lonesome in the back. Find myself staring just a little too long at the smug couples around me. I excuse myself, go to the restroom and wash my face for no particular reason. Then trudge up the steps to sit alone again.
Monday always comes a day too soon, yeah?
Music: risk all this for just a kiss I promise I will not resist