I frenched kissed another guy the other night. Not that it was "like that." I must explain:
Well it was a bar night with a friend that quickly became a drunken sophomoric travelling male bondage ritual when other freinds showed up pre-tuned for optimim bar performance. Not that I was partaking, except for my usual one bottle of beer. Fast forward to the next bar where Joey-Joe is macking on a girl, or rather, to be precise, she is macking hard on him. He gave me the "secret guy look" to come over and be part of the conversation. Now the "secret guy look" is a subtle thing. It is a long developed form of communication dating back to the times of Moses. I am not sure what Moses used the "secret guy look" for, but you can bet your ass he did.
But, as is common with me, I digress:
Said girl was telling Joey how much she liked him and was wondering why he liked her. His response was a the quite bland and unimaginative "I just do." He was definately a man in need of my superior communication skills. I also got the distinct impression that he did not give a flying fuck about the situation, but then again we were in a shithole bar with shithole people and I needed some sort of a mental diversion, SO I suggested that maybe he liked her because she was hot. I elicited the response I was after: "But I need more than that, he can't just like me because I am hot."
Bingo:
I proceeded to inform her (although I had of course never met her before) that Joe liked her because he could talk to her and because he really felt like she understood him. Joe felt that they had a deep connection and that he could tell her anything. He found her interesting and intelligent and nobody had ever understood the way he felt inside like she did.
Joe chimed in: "Yeah, what he said."
Her turn. I believe it went something like. "Fuck you. You are so full of shit. How would you know that anyway?"
"Well," I said, "Joey and I are a lot closer than you think."
"Really, how close?" she said.
"We're so close, we french kiss sometimes." I replied.
"Really?" she said.
"Oh yeah." says I. The eloquent Joey said "Yup."
And then........ "I would like to see that......... I would really REALLY like to see that." says she.
At this point Joe and I looked at each other. Now he knows me better than I know him I suppose. I gave him guitar lessons years ago and as such I guess I did most of the talking. People who know me just know that I don't give a fuck about what is "normal" and if I back myself into a corner (perfect example here) I bite the bullet and take whatever is due me. I, however did not really think Joey was going to go through with it. When it became apparent that he was I thought "Oh well." and so I kissed him and opened my mouth and we tongued one another.
NOW
here is the funny part. I didn't really feel anything. I did not feel overly grossed out or funny. Neither did I feel aroused. I did not sport instant wood or want to ralph. It was just kind of warm and wet. It was really no big deal. The fact that it happened right by the pool tables in the busiest bar in a town of 10,000 might be a big deal, but fuck 'em all. Its not like I have never been called a fag before. Its not like I give a shit. I already made up my mind a long time ago if I ever really want to suck a dick I am gonna suck a fucking dick. After all, ask yourself this question: What is worse, doing something society deems not inside the boundaries of acceptable because you want to, or not doing something you want to because it is not within the boundaries society deems acceptable? That is the question of the day. That is the question of the week. I suggest that be the question of your entire liftime. Find out what YOU want and do it. Fuck the world. Be responsible for fucks sake, but do what you need to do to make your life whole and complete.
So there you go. My first male on male kissing experience. No big fucking deal.
***** You may print this and add it to your stack of bed-time stories. Drunkeness, mild homosexuality, PG-13 language, always good for the kiddies,yes? *****
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