Its 5.58 a.m in the morning, and I've conceded defeat in another pointless struggle with sleep. It can hog the bed and scrunch up under the blankets for all I care. I am awake, trembling with exhaustion, and my brain is muddled enough to lower its paranoia fences about writing to allow me to blab out strings of words that would probably not make sense.
But here is my story about our first kiss.
"It was three thirty in the morning, and the rest of the group - that consisted of his friends and third ripple acquaintances - had melted away drunkenly into the chilly night air, singing pop songs and changing the lyrics to nonsensical gibberish. Travis and I had decided to stop by the 24 hour MacDonalds for some post-alcohol snacking. I was just glad to be sitting because my Miu Miu heels were killing my toes, fabulous as the shoes were. The whole night had been kind of weird, and kind of nice between us. I thought that it was going to be awkward, being with his friends, but knowing how socially inept I am, Travis pretty much stuck by my side the entire night. There were moments where we were sitting side by side outside the club, and I thought ' Maybe something could happen.', but nothing did. I was starting to think that maybe it was best, afterall, that we remained good friends and nothing more, nothing less.
Anyway! At MacDonalds, Travis chose to manfully devour two quarter pounders in front of me, once again amazing me with his pit-less stomach. I stole his fries to dip with my chocolate sundae until he banned me from crossing this invisible line he had drawn on the middle of the table inbetween us. We were laughing, and trying to talk above the rowdiness around us. Just then, Travis decided to try my chocolate sundae. I decided to forgo my 'no-sharing-of-utensils' and lifted the plastic spoon loaded with ice cream towards him, fully expecting him to take the spoon from me.
What happened next, was so quick, and so sudden that even now, as I'm telling you this, seems totally unbelievable. Instead of taking the spoon, Travis sort of half stood up from his seat, half-leaned forward, and kissed me. The crowd hooted approvingly.
Of course, that had jolted me, and I ended up dropping the spoon onto his shirt. He yelped, startled at the cold sensation. I gasped, half in shock at what I had just done, the other half tingling from the press of his lips against mine. What happened next was a flurry of napkins being grabbed to stop the white brown mess from smearing into his brown shirt amidst laughter.
Travis later told me that he was glad that I had ordered something cold, as opposed to ordering a bowl of soup which would have probably ended up on him as well. It seems that he had been planning to kiss me the entire night, but was just seeking an opportunity to do so.
And that's the story of our first kiss."
Is it believable? Does it sound like the retelling of events that transpired?
Well, don't buy it. It did not happen. Travis does not exist. I have not eaten MacDonalds since November. I definitely have not put myself into any social situation that would require interaction.
The only thing real in this story, are the Miu Miu shoes.
I have these shoes.
Maybe one day, instead of it being in my head, a first kiss will actually happen while my feet are aching inside those shoes. Till then, those shoes are only worn repeatedly inside my head, bringing me to places, letting strangers into my life, bringing life to my existence and letting me dream sombrely of a life that eludes my waking hours.
(and yes. I know. Très pathetic, but you should get used to that.)