Story 3: First "Real" Kiss

I'm in a happy, slightly energetic but not overly excited, romantically optimistic but not sexually frustrated (yet) mood.

So, I'll share this story.

Picture it. Cleveland, 1998 or so. It is a hot Ohio summer and I am on a date with a Cleveland-San Jose Ballet dancer.

The date started off with a simple late lunch at a diner on a weekday in Lakewood (AKA the gay west side of Cleveland). He's quirky, a bit shorter than me, and on "unemployment" for the summer (the ballet dancers did that between arts seasons).

He's athleticly slim, with beautiful tanned skin, and short cropped black hair. His jawline is strong and sharp, his features are striking. The skinniness is almost a turn-off, until he finishes his lunch and orders dessert, at which point I could either be enamoured by finally finding someone with an apetite or annoyed by someone with a high metabolism.

After lunch, we sit talking, and he excuses himself to answer his mobile phone (and he's got manners, too). He comes back and inquires what I am doing for the rest of the day.

I drive him back to his place to drop off my car. Then, we get picked up by his friend who drives us to Tremont to a restaurant/bistro/cafe called "The Flying Fig."

He wants a cocktail, and I'm too young to get into the bars. So he brings me to this place to hang out with his dancer/bartender friend. We hang out together with several dancers, girls and boys, all cordial and friendly.

Being the consummate frat boy, I am not accustomed to the cocktails, and I drink them like juice. I was more used to cheap hard liquor shots and beer (generic and microbrews).

I am at the giddy point, but pre-noticeable slurring. We get driven home and outside of his roommate's house, he says goodbye.

His hands are on my shoulders and he pulls me toward him for an embrace. Unexpectedly, he raises up on toe to have his lips meet mine. And because I'm used to lowering my head for shorter people, we fall short of actually matching up. His two lips encompass my upper lip. And my previously dry (but not chapped) lip is left slightly moist from his touch.

The embrace ends we repeat "Goodnights," and I drive home to the east side. I remember singing the entire way home in the car. In last night's dream, I believe I sang "I could have danced all night" from "My Fair Lady." I don't believe that was actually the case that night, I vaguely remember it just being whatever was on the radio.

My upper lip tingled, with my car window open and the night air cooling the moistness on my lips. I could feel it like ben-gay on a sore muscle, but without the smell.

When I arrived home, I remember placing my head on the pillow, upper lip still with an unmistakable sensation. And the last thoughts before I fall into a deep slumber were me overanalyzing and debating and questioning: Is my head spinning because of the alcohol? Or is this the way a kiss is supposed to feel?