I have dates. Two dates, with two different guys. Dates I probably won’t end up canceling when I find out the guy has an STD or wants to take out his fake teeth before he goes down on me.
As I told Therapist and my friends, I understand this is a good thing. Aside from just testing my capability for interaction on a date, the last person I kissed was during The Year of Poor Life Choices (2013), so it’s been FAR too long. Therapist tells me if I end up kissing one of these dudes, that may be good, because maybe I’ll no longer be giving Bad-Life-Choice Guy mental significance as “the last person I kissed.”
But Jesus Christ… DATES…Plural…
You can die of anxiety, right? ‘Cause I’m going to. Just so you know. Kissing won’t be an issue if I have a heart attack. Hopefully the kissing will come first.
If I die, it’s been a pleasure writing silliness for you all.