A kiss isn't a kiss without moisture

With my number one galavanting his handsome self in Spain, I decide it's time to step up my game with my number two (or as we all know him, my I.T. guy). But attempts at his possible seduction have been spoiled too many times. First by a boy's trip to the races for the weekend; Second with a near brush with appendicitis. And now here we are following a lovely date no closer to the initial goal I designed when I finally released my beloved to the other side of the Atlantic: "Jump him."

Weeks and a barrage, wait, make that an endless barrage of pointless text messages later we finally go out. Irritated, I am. At first that cute little beeping on my new cellphone that indicated the arrival of mail gave me glee. Now I dread the sound because I know I am expected to send another meaningless and trite response to the meaningless and ill-ly abbrev-ed message I received. (Also, let the record show that this date only truly happened because typing these messages impaired my driving and my patience to such an extent that I actually caved and called to iron out the details).

And the thing about his voice is, I love it. I really do. Once I called him and he told me "take your time, whenever your ready" in his reassuring tone I was ready and anticipating getting on with my plan ("jump him"). So he greets me with a hug, opens my door and does all the chivalrous things I had come to expect from him. And I can't say that anything about the night was really displeasing. We talked, we laughed, we look good together (I think) and I tried in my passive way to move forward without being well, forward.

Holding his hand, touching his leg, leaning in, sitting almost next to him. I even read his palm for Christ's sake! What more can one girl muster? Okay, in retrospect I could've maybe done more but to do so might not have been, well me.

All night I was dreading it, and when I finally ended up at the bottom of the steps of my front door I thought. This is it. Now or never. I tried to prolong the moment as long as I could. Bat those eyelashes, lean in for it, tell him I'm warmer in his arms. Yes, I did go there. And still those pecks on the lips!!!!! Am I that old fashioned to I think a kiss, a real kiss, requires moisture?

Well let the record be shown that it did not happen. My goal wasn't accomplished. I set out ambitiously and I've failed. I'm bored and I'm about to tap out. After all, my knight in shining whatever will be home in the blink of my mascara enhanced eyes.