Like many other aging slightly-maturing people, I am beginning to find New Year’s Eve to be rather inconsequential. Or, as many have pointed out, just an excuse for a piss-up. Personally, I don’t need an excuse — or companionship — in order to get smashed. Despite feeling that way, I determined to drag my depressed and aging self out to myPub™ so that I could be surrounded by happy and/or belligerent drunk friends. At worst, I imagined, I would be bored, and at best, I would get to gleefully dissect some deserving cretin with my razor wit. Or better even, maybe I’d meet somebody interesting who could make me laugh. As it turned out, I spent a little time chatting with people I genuinely like, but after an hour or so my short attention span was already flickering.

Then, in walked one of my sweet and gorgeous guyfriends. He is a really nice man, older than I would normally consider dating [read: more than a decade older than me], and just not quite smart enough to be able to keep up with me in most of our conversations. My friend is VERY attractive, especially for a man of an age when most men have long-since let themselves go. He is in excellent shape as he runs daily. He has a handsome face. A lot of my guyfriends are very attractive . . . but even though I can recognise and acknowledge their attractiveness, I am not attracted to them. However, when this guy walked in the door I felt a flicker of friskiness. For a split second the notion of sleeping with him crossed my mind. I decided at that very moment that I was going to kiss him at midnight. I even told him so and his handsome face broke out in a huge grin. For a full five minutes before Cinderella Hour he had his muscular arm around me.

The countdown began . . . I felt that little quiver of excitement again . . . we turned towards one another . . . and without any awkwardness at all, as though we had turned into one another’s embrace a hundred times before, we smoothly locked our bodies together … our heads tilted naturally to opposite sides … our lips pressed together . . . I casually slid my tongue into his mouth …

. . . and it was like kissing a dead fish. Holy Mackerel!!!!!!!!!!!! It was one of the most passionless kisses I have ever experienced. As a general rule, my assertive personality attracts a lot of sexually submissive men, but they usually at least manage to trick me by luring me in with a decent kiss. I have actually never kissed either of my grandfathers — in part because they both died decades ago — but I’m pretty sure they could have done a better job. Probably still could.

It was so bad that I actually found myself apologising for kissing him!!!!!! Then I made an excuse about going to the loo and instead paid my tiny tab and bolted home to wash my mouth out with soap.

So, no fireworks for me this year!

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This entry was posted on Thursday, January 3rd, 2008 at 5:42 pm and is filed under Humour. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.