January's Reader Submissions

Hello everyone, and welcome to another round of reader submissions here at Every Girl I’ve Ever Kissed.  I’d like to start things out by saying thank you to the people who sent a story in, and encourage anyone who thought about sending in a story to do so for next month’s installment of reader submissions.

Anyway, on to our first story!

I'm home for Christmas break, looking to catch up with some old friends and have a simple time at home. My best friend invites me to the annual high school friends' Christmas party she coordinates where I'm promised jolly times of baking and cookie decorating. Being that I was an honorary graduate from their high school, I attended sure I would have a pleasant evening.

The party went as planned, and in addition to a wholesome dinner at the host's home with their family the evening turned into a lot of vodka, beer, and sugar cookies. I, however, stuck to a couple of glasses of wine, remaining pretty sober for the night. Towards the end of the evening I'd spent several hours talking with one guy and we end up in his car making out. To clarify, by "towards the end of the evening" I mean around 6 am. So there we are, and all of the sudden there are headlights on the car. We assume it's someone from inside the house making a funny. No, it is a policeman, and he does not think we're very funny.

The policeman takes our licenses to run them, apparently there had been a number of break-ins in the area and his car had been reported for suspicious activity. Fortunately for us, our suspicious activity wasn't illegal. The conversation with the policeman ended about like this-

Policeman- "So, if you aren't robbing houses… I mean are you just messing around? You can be honest with me."

Us- "Yaah officer. We're just making out."

Policeman- "Alright. Well just make sure no one can see in the car, whatever you're doing."

Thanks officer, but I called it a night/morning after that. Sometimes you just know when it's time to go.

            I cannot imagine the amount of fear I would be feeling if that were me.  I would easily have a panic attack.  Also, imagine the story from the policeman’s point of view, thinking, “what is going on in that car? I think I’ve caught someone in the middle of a break-in . . . nope . . . wait, just two kids making out. False alarm.”

            On to the next story!

Kiss me badly once, shame on you. Kiss me badly twice, shame on me.

Everyone remembers a few specific kisses in their lifetime. Their first kiss. Their first make out. Their first kiss with a person they really like. And their first terrible kiss. Today, I will talk about the bad ones. Because honestly sometimes they are more entertaining.

My first bad kiss was in high school, but it was pretty uneventful. Basically the guy tried to see how far his tongue could go into my mouth. I remember thinking “WHAT is he doing? …Is he enjoying this?” I never kissed him again, needless to say.

Another memorable bad kiss I experienced was my freshman year in college. I will refer to this guy as Mr. Skunk. The reason for his name is because once he farted in front of me and it smelled TERRIBLE. Not only did it smell like death but it was also noisy. So gross. There we were cuddled up in my dorm room, just us, and he just ripped it. Nothing is more unattractive than a noisy smelly boy fart. Ok, back to the kiss. Before the farting incident happened, Mr. Skunk came over to watch a movie. And as we all know the come-over-to-watch-a-movie move is a sure sign that you are going to make out. In my opinion, if you invite a girl over to watch a move and you actually watch the movie then you’re a failure as a man. Sure enough half way through the movie Mr. Skunk kissed me. It was fine at first but then all the sudden he did this strange lick my lips move. Let me describe it: he used the tip of his tongue to outline my lips. It was not enjoyable and after the lips licking and the fart Mr. Skunk was changed to ‘don’t answer’ in my phone.

I hope these two boys have had kissing lessons since our tragic kisses. If not, I feel bad for their next victim.

This brings up a topic I’d like to talk about: How do you know if you are a bad kisser?  Both of these guys are probably still going through life leaving a trail of disappointment (and general crop dust) in their wake.  And they have no idea.  Years later (possibly today), they’ll find out that they are a terrible kisser and people have been talking about their bad kisses behind their backs, to their friends, on blogs, etc, which is the kissing equivalent of someone telling you that you have a piece of food in your teeth or a very visible booger in your nose after a job interview/hot date/meeting your significant other’s family.  “Everyone knew but me! Why didn’t they say anything” they’ll scream into the heavens.

Which is why, no matter how bad, the terrible kissers should have been told.  If you kiss someone who is a terrible kisser and you do nothing, you are just damning another person to experience a terrible (and potentially smelly) kiss.  Sure it will be awkward, but someone else will be thanking you.  And if no one ever says anything?  THIS COULD HAPPEN:

           I would have thrown up at this wedding.  No question.

            And now, on to our last story!  I am a huge fan of this story, mainly because it made me put on my detective’s hat to try and figure out who some of the characters were.  It also made me miss the now-defunct Dirty’s Tavern in Stillwater, but that isn’t as important.  Here is the story:

In Stillwater, Thursday nights were as good as the weekend because everyone would be ready to go out to the bars on the Strip and party – and go to class with a hangover the next morning. This day was no different for me. It was the fall semester of 2009 when ???? and I locked lips.

I met one of my good friends from high school and his fraternity brothers at Dirties Tavern and that’s when I realized another one of our buddies from high school/college was in town who had graduated the previous spring semester (I went to school with both of them since elementary school). “Barry” was also a member of the fraternity when he was in college at Oklahoma State University.

As the crowds piled in, Dirties started to get crazy, as it always did because of the Thursday night beer special, $5 drown nights and ladies drink free. Friends and I had been there for a while and by this time Dirties was hopping. I started to feel pretty drunk when my friend, “Barry” was talking to ???? when he introduced me to her. We had small talk and then parted our own ways. Five minutes later, I was talking to “Barry” and the rest of his fraternity brothers when ???? came up from behind me and grabbed me and started to kiss me.  As any man would do, I put my arm around her and started kissing her back and made-out. We had a long kiss right there in front of her sorority sisters and my buddy’s fraternity brothers. Once it concluded, she says, “He was right, you are a really good kisser.”  And then we started kissing again, and in the meantime I was thinking, “Who is he?”

Once the second session ended, we started talking and all of her sorority sisters were ‘oh, you all are so cute’ and blah, blah, blah…… We ended up hanging out together the rest of that night at Dirties and then went to Murphy’s, another bar on the strip, everyone ends up migrating to around 1:00/1:30 a.m.  until closing time of 2 a.m. As we parted ways, we unofficially made arrangements to meet at Dirties the following night. “Barry” told me it wasn’t going to happen but it did as well as Saturday night. By this time, there were a lot of friends from high school that were in sororities that were saying ???? and I  would make a great couple. At the end of Saturday night, I asked ???? for her number and said we ought to start hanging out apart from the bars. She entered her phone number in my cell phone and then we parted ways because she was going home since the night was almost over and the bars were about to close.

“Barry,” one of his fraternity brothers, and I ended up walking out of Murphy’s together, but we weren’t ready to call it a night so we were looking for an after party. During this time I asked “Barry” about ????. He told me, I didn’t have a chance because he already tried and she turned him down, in the past. He informed me, she asked him to point out one of his fraternity brothers for her to kiss when he told her to kiss me. As an arrogant drunk, I thought I would prove him wrong because after all: we kissed, we hung out together three nights in a row, I got her number, her sorority sisters and my friends that were in sororities said we would make a great couple. It was progressing well, right?

The three of us ended up stumbling across some random party at some guys’ apartment that used to be part of a night club on the Strip. Like some arrogant, bad-ass drunk guys, we walked in like we owned the place; we started meeting people and they gave us beers. We ended up meeting the guys that actually lived there and come to find out they went to a rival high school of ours ( “Barry” and I), and we knew a lot of the same people. Something ended up getting broken or stolen so then the guys kicked everyone out. At that point, we ended up calling it a night.

The next day, my hangover lingered on and on but I wanted to contact ???? so I sent ???? a text message to break the ice and buy time for recovering from the previous night. Time progressed, but no response so later that evening I decided to call ????.  A lady answers the phone and I asked for ????,  she responds, “Who are you looking for?” I tell her again, and she says you must have the wrong number.

I added ???? as a friend on Facebook one of the previous days so I sent her a Facebook message asking for her number and said lets hangout (Yes, it was stupid looking back but men do stupid things with the combination of  women and alcohol/hangovers). She ended up deleting the Facebook post and never responded.

Thursday rolled around again and so I did the same as the following week minus “Barry” who lives in Oklahoma City. Again, I saw ???? so I asked the guys that I was hanging out with if I should talk to her, I really wanted to but they were all saying no, screw her, she gave you a wrong number. I ended up not talking to ???? again. To make the matters worse, I kept running into ????’s  best friend,  we’ll call “Katie.” I kept running into “Katie” at Wal-Mart, walking on campus, in the library, on the Strip and everywhere in between; it was almost like she was stalking me. The conversations with “Katie” were pretty awkward at best. A handful of times I asked “Katie” for ????’s number, but she never would give it to me. She would reply, “I can’t do that to my friend”. ???? ended up graduating in the Spring 2010.

For me, I was one of those 5^th year seniors so I thought it was a new beginning in the fall 2010. But no, “Katie” was still in school and continued running into her everywhere I went, eventually discovering she lived in the apartment building next to mine.

The start of the fall semester means football season starts shortly thereafter. At OSU, tailgating is a major party atmosphere where everyone gets pretty drunk (or it might be just me). While tailgating at my friend’s fraternity’s tailgate, I met  “Megan” and we hit it off pretty well. I started to run into her at the bars whenever I would go out after the games or the usual weekly outings. By this time, Dirties closed and Outlaws opened which is a new hot spot on the Strip.

Following one of the football games about mid-way through the season, I ran into ????. We had a good conversation for about 10 minutes until she asked me, “Why don’t you ever come and see me in Tulsa?” I proceeded to tell her I didn’t have her number when ???? accused me of lying as she claimed to have given me her number. I informed her it was the wrong number, then  ????’s sorority sisters said she gave me her number and ???? would never do the contrary. My counter argument was “Mistakes happen, we were both drunk and that’s why I sent you a Facebook message asking you for your number but you deleted it and never responded.”  Her sorority sister said she didn’t do that, she really liked you;  you all dated, you all were boyfriend-girlfriend. I told them we never dated nor were boyfriend-girlfriend; I didn’t ever have here phone number, to say the least. Then, ???? said she can’t handle this because she use to really like me but now I am just a jerk and walked off. 

“Megan” and I danced with each other several times at Outlaws and hung out at the bars. She was in a sorority but I didn’t know which one. Later on, I discovered she was in the same sorority as ???? and “Katie.” Great.  But, I never saw any of the sorority sisters that knew about ???? and me, until one night I saw “Katie” come out to the patio at Murphy’s when I was with “Megan” and her pledge sisters.  “Katie” came up and started talking to her sisters and acknowledged me in a sinister tone of voice. I was sober so I started to stress out about the situation. Subsequently, I started chugging mix drinks one after the other to get a ‘buzz’ because of the awkward situation. Later that night, “Megan” gave me her number and we ended up leaving together at closing time.  Her friend that drove her and some of her sister’s home gave me a ride as well.

 I tried calling “Megan” days later but no answer/ return phone call.

Several weeks passed before I saw “Megan” which said she never got the call.

At Murpheys after a Saturday evening football game, I saw “Megan” sitting on the outside picnic table under the fake, lighted palm tree. Two people over from her was ????, and by this time I was feeling pretty drunk and obnoxious so I went up to “Megan” and started dancing on her and she began dancing as well. 

???? saw it so she started talking to some random guy next to her, and not even two minutes later she started kissing him again and again.

“Megan’s“ friends told me they tried to tell her we would make a great couple but it never worked out so the truth is pretty somber, ‘enough is enough.’

                  That is it for January’s reader submissions.  As always, send your stories to sukelephens@gmail.com and you can be a part of February’s reader submissions.  By the time next month’s stories are posted Valentine’s Day will have come and gone, so what better time to go and experience a crazy kissing story to share with the world on Every Girl I’ve Ever Kissed?

            See you next month!

LUKE

December Reader Submissions

            Hello friends!  Luke here.  It seems like it’s been forever since I’ve talked to you guys.  I’ve got another blog idea rolling around in my head, but I can’t talk about it just yet, so let’s look at the kissing stories people have sent in to sukelephens@gmail.com for the month of December.

            The first comes from a good friend of mine, Maddie, who has just started her own blog.  Everybody check out http://www.correspondencebetweenformerroommates.com/ because it promises to be very good, and has just started.  Her and her old college roommates are writing to each other from their now-no-long-roommate lives.  Anyway, on to her kiss story!

One time I made out with a guy for two hours in front of everyone at a party.  It was the third time I was ever drunk.  

To this day, when I see anyone who knows the boy I made out with they ask me how he is.  And during the 2 and a half years of college I continued going to school with him, every time I would see him someone would come up and say, "Remember that time you made out… For two hours… in the living room?"  Awesome.  

Short by sweet, no?  Because we went to college together, I’ve spend the time since receiving her story trying to figure out who this guy was she kissed, but I can’t piece it together.

            On to the next story!  Our next contributor chose to stay anonymous.

It was work week of my sophomore year when Guy #1 and I shared a magical moment. Work week and rush week were always an interesting time... I just never really liked being cooped up in a house with 100 girls for two whole weeks with no boys in sight. So there was one last night that we were allowed to go out before the dreaded lock down. At the time, I had a crush on a Beta, Guy #2. Guy #2 and I had watched a movie at the end of my freshman year and I was still carrying a torch for him, so when he asked me to come to a party I knew I had to go see him. 

My friend Becky was the new Pi Phi from OU and was dating a Beta so I figured she would like to go. We went to the party and I am pretty confident we were the only girls there. I flirted with Guy #2 all night but when Becky and I said that we were leaving he just said bye and didn't walk me out. I knew the spark was gone because typically the walk to the car is the best time to make your move! Well Guy #2 passed on the walk out but Guy #1, another Beta, (who was hammered) threw his arm around me and started walking with me to my car. Before I knew it he did this weird pull me in move and kissed me. 

Now when I said he kissed me we totally didn't make out. But it was a long, long kiss. Long enough for Becky to say, 'hey can you unlock the door?' I pushed him off and said 'ooookkk . . . thanks for that. Night!' after the car doors were closed Becky asked 'did Guy #2 really just kiss you?'

Guy #2 and I never talked about it again but it was quite memorable and magical. Guy #1 missed out, but obviously Guy #2 didn't. 

My favorite part of this entire story is the fact that there were only two girls at the Beta party she went to.  Our secret contributor was so excited to share her stories that she emailed me a few days later and shared another!  I told her it is kind of addicting!  Here it is:

Sometimes the worst decisions make the best stories.

-Anonymous

One year in college, I needed a date to one of my sorority date parties and had no one to ask. I lie. I had someone, a crush on this guy . . . let's refer to him as Mr. Smooth Operator, but he already had a date. The beautiful thing about date parties in college was if there was someone you liked, a date party was a great way to get to know them better, get a little drunk and possibly make out with them at the end of the night; however, when you are single and all your friends have boyfriends, date parties are not as much fun. You end up just feeling like the odd wheel out. But nevertheless, I was determined to have a good time at this date party and I wanted to bring someone who was fun and I wouldn't have to babysit.

After much thought and persuasion by my friends, I decided to take a friend, let's refer to him as Mr. Can't Grow Up. So I asked Mr. Can't Grow Up but secretly I really wanted to ask Mr. Smooth Operator but like I said, he already had a date.

When the night of the date party rolled around I started drinking a little too early and by the time Mr. Can't Grow Up came to get me I was already tipsy/drunk. We made it to the date party, had a great time, I never had to babysit him . . . aanndd we both had too much to drink. After the date party was over I ended up at Mr. Can't Grow Up's house and knew I needed to get home somehow. While trying to figure out which friend would be sober enough to come get me, Mr. Can't Grow Up ordered us pizza. While the pizza was en route all my drinking caught up to me and I had to excuse myself to the restroom to . . . throw up. 

I was extremely embarrassed because 1. I had just thrown up and 2. I didn't know Mr. Can't Grow Up that well. Lucky for me, he was extremely cool about it and after making a few jokes, I felt fine around him. Just before the pizza got there, I realized I had seen Mr. Smooth Operator at the date party and I remembered him saying something like let me know if you need a ride later. Unfortunately for Mr. Smooth Operator, I typically called him when I needed a ride and he usually always showed up as my DD. Naturally, I texted him with the address, asked him to come get me and he said yes.

Meanwhile, the pizza arrived and Mr. Can't Grow Up and I devoured it. And here is where it all got hazy...I don't know if it was the alcohol we consumed, my sweet dance moves from earlier or because we had a great time that night but something worked and Mr. Can't Grow Up kissed me. Apparently it didn't faze him that I had just thrown up ten minutes before. After making out for a few minutes I realized Mr. Smooth Operator was probably waiting on me outside. I grabbed my phone and found 3 missed calls and 5 texts messages with the last one reading, 'If you don't get out here soon, I am leaving.' I told Mr. Can't Grow Up that I had to go because my ride was waiting on me. We kissed all the way up until my back hit his front door where I finally had to push him away and said 'Thanks for the pizza. Great make out," and then gave him a high five. 

As I was walking to Mr. Smooth Operator’s car I was praying that he didn't see us or our silhouettes making out. I got in the car and knew I was home free. Then I thought, 'this could be the most epic night. I could make out with both Mr. Can't Grow Up AND Mr. Smooth Operator.' Unfortunately, I got back to his house and it never happened. After he made me some food and we talked for a few hours, I finally did the walk of shame home.

This is only the beginning of my story with both Mr. Can't Grow Up and Mr. Smooth Operator but for this girl, I was just lucky that neither figured out about the other . . . And who doesn't love a good make out. After all, well-behaved women rarely make history. Thanks Coco Chanel.

            That brings us to the end of the December submissions!  Remember to send in your best kiss story to sukelephens@gmail.com and you can be featured in the January edition!  A big thanks to our two brave first reader submissions!

I hope everyone has a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!  I fully endorse everyone getting out there and kissing a special (or random) person at midnight of New Year’s Eve, hopefully it makes for a great story that you’ll want to share with all of EGIEK.

See you next month,

LUKE

The End?

            There you have it, now you know every girl I’ve ever kissed.  All thirty –seven of them.  Though that isn’t exactly true . . .

This weekend I was in Stillwater for the OSU/Kansas State game.  After the game, I went out to J.R. Murphy’s, a local bar in Stillwater.  I was waiting in line to order a beer, minding my own business, when a woman came up to me.  She was somewhere in her 40s or 50s.  She came right up to me and said, “I know you, you’re Luke Stephens.”  I was somewhat taken aback by this, and asked how she knew me.  She responded by grabbing my face and planting a kiss right on my cheek, saying, “because I’m the 38^th girl you’ve ever kissed”.  It was not what I was expecting.

All right, now you know every girl I’ve ever kissed, even though I don’t officially count that last one, it did happen.

Time has flown since I’ve started this blog!  I’ve loved sharing my love life with you week in, and week out for the past ten odd months.  I’d like to say thank you for giving me a little bit of your time every Wednesday.

 If you want to contribute one of YOUR stories, send me an email of your best kissing story at sukelephens@gmail.com.  My goal is to expand EGIEK to also include a monthly post sharing your stories.

            Once again, thank you everyone for reading!  I hope you’ve enjoyed reading my stories as much as I’ve enjoyed writing them!

Keep kissing!

Luke Stephens

#37

Ann: Can I help you, at 11:48 P.M.?

Mark: Alright, here’s the whole thing.  Here are all my skeletons.  When I was 16, I had sex with a married woman.

Ann: Right.

Mark: When I was in college, I smoked a decent amount of pot.

Ann: Uh huh.

Mark: Nothing insane.

Ann: What the hell are you doing?

Mark: What I’m doing is I’m trying to tell you that I’ve done some stuff that I’m not very proud of.  And I like you, so I’d rather you not find out about this from anyone but me . . . this was a bad idea.

Ann: No, its fine.  I get what this is and why you did it.

Mark: Is there anything that you’d like to share from your past?  To sort of balance the scale?

Ann: Yeah, one time this guy rang my doorbell at midnight to brag about getting laid when he was sixteen . . . so I shot him.

Mark: Goodnight.

~Parks and Rec, Season 2, Episode 5 – Practice Date

            December of 2010 had gotten off to a rough start.  The first two weeks of December were filled with law school finals, so they were no good, and then once Christmas Break started, it was like several of the girls I had previously kissed all got together and decided to start blowing up my phone on a regular basis.  One took this plan a step further and followed me around an Oklahoma City bar for a full night, trying to engage me in stiflingly awkward conversations.  One week into Christmas Break and I had declared December “The Month of Ex-Girlfriends Coming Back to Haunt Me”.  The only girls interested in me were girls that I’ve previously detailed on this blog.  I had written December off as a complete wash out.

            About a week later, my sister invited me to go out to the bars with her and her old high school friends.  I wasn’t too thrilled about this, since I’d be the only guy going out with them, but then my friend Mitch told me that he would be going along too, so I reluctantly decided to go.  Here is the group I went out with:

 

            The bars in Oklahoma City are generally a whole lot of fun over Christmas Break, since all of the students from Stillwater and Norman are in town and wanting to go out.  This particular night was no different.  Soon after arriving at the bar, I started talking to a cute girl who I recognized*, but didn’t really know.

*FUN FACT #1: About a month and a half earlier, I had seen the same girl while I was out shopping at J Crew with my mom and sister.  I didn’t know her at the time, but I knew who she was, so I had randomly said “hi”.

            The girl and I really hit it off, continuing to talk for several more minutes.  However, I made a terrible realization about ten minutes into talking with her, I needed to poop.  Pooping at a bar is the single most frightening thing I can imagine doing in public.  You are surrounded by a sea of people you don’t know, the bathrooms are always pretty suspect, and you can never really trust the locks that are installed on the doors, because you know that people are going to be constantly trying to get in.  To make matters worst, I was talking to a cute girl and I figured if I walked away, I’d never see her again.  I told her I would be right back and to not go anywhere, and away I went*.  I’ll stop talking about poop now.

*FUN FACT #2: She later told me she thought I was trying to end the conversation and ditch her.

            I returned and eventually found the girl I had been talking to again.  I bought her and her sister a shot* and continued talking with her. 

FUN FACT #3: I asked what shot they wanted and the girl’s sister responded, “anything but whiskey”, to which I turned around and ordered a SoCo Lime shot, which is whiskey.  The girl’s sister was not amused.  In my defense, I didn’t know that Southern Comfort was whiskey*, since the shot just tastes like candy to me.

*FUN FACT #4: While writing this story I discovered, Southern Comfort does not contain whiskey, at least according to the most authoritative source for my generation, Wikipedia, which says:

Southern Comfort (often abbreviated in English to SoCo) is an American liqueur made from neutral spirits with fruit, spice and whiskey flavorings . . Although the original product contained whiskey, the current formula for Southern Comfort only contains whiskey-tasting flavorings rather than actual whiskey (except for the premier version called “Special Reserve”).

So, take that #37’s big sister!

            By this time, I had had a fair amount to drink and was feeling pretty good.  So good, in fact, that only one thought was in my mind; I want to kiss this girl.  However, the middle of a giant room in a bar isn’t necessarily the best place to share your first kiss, so I was trying to figure out a way around this.  Lucky for me, I quickly found the answer.  Attached to the side of the room was a small open storage type room where the bar kept their discarded keg shells.  This room was just what I was looking for!  We snuck back into the room and kissed.  She was the 37^th girl I ever kissed.

            Later that night, after some more storage room kissing, we went our separate ways.  I left the bar knowing several things: one, her phone number, two, that she was in my sister’s sorority, and three, that I wanted to ask #37 out on a date.

            The next day, I sent #37 a text message to tell her that I had fun the previous night, but got no response.  I figured that this was not a good sign.  Later in the day, with no received text in sight, I started to worry.  As a result of this worrying, I called #37.  No answer.  Crap.  I figured that I’d never see #37 again.  Later that night, I got a text from Hart, my little brother in my fraternity.  His text said, “The ladies want your number!!!”.  #37 had run into Hart and asked him for my number, because her phone had been broken!  This was possibly the best news I could have asked for.  She called me and I invited her to Hart’s Welcome Back Party.

            Hart had spent the previous semester in Japan, and in one of our Skype conversations, he had mentioned to me that he was having trouble figuring out where he was going to live, since he only needed a place to live for one semester.  Not long after Hart told me this my sister mentioned to my parents that she was looking for another roommate for The Firehouse because one of her roommates was going to be student teaching during that spring semester.  I immediately recommended that Hart be the house’s sixth roommate, and my sister thought that sounded awesome.  So the next semester Hart was going to be living with my sister and four other girls. Thus, Hart’s return was going to be a big deal.  Hart ended up cancelling his first welcome back party, but quickly rescheduled and #37 and I got to hang out again.  We ended up kissing again at Hart’s house, and things were going very well.

Hart and his roommates from The Firehouse dressed up as the Spice Girls for a date party.  Hart is Scary Spice.

            Before, when I mentioned that leaving the bar I knew #37’s phone number, that she was in my sister’s sorority and that I wanted to ask her on a date, there was something I did not know.  Normally, when I am at a bar, I figure that everyone there is twenty-one, since that is pretty much the only requirement to be in a bar.  So, when I met #37, I figured that she was at least twenty-one, and I didn’t have anything to worry about.  Eventually, once we were friends on Facebook, I figured out that she was nineteen, and a sophomore in college.  A sophomore.  I was twenty-four!  Which meant that she was so young that we were never in college at the same time*!  I would love to watch a video of me doing the math realizing that she was nineteen.  “Born in 1991?  Wait . . . seventeen . . . eighteen . . . nineteen!?!  WHAT!”

FUN FACT #4: Because of this, when #37’s sorority threw an “opposites attract” date party, I dressed as an old man and she dressed as a little girl.  It’s funny because it’s true!

 

            Not long after Hart’s Welcome Home Party I asked #37 out on a date.  And it went really well!  So well that I ended up asking her out on another date not long after that.  It was around this time that I was seriously considering starting this blog.  I figured that a blog about kissing girls would affect #37, so I told her about my idea and a few of the stories I would be telling.  She said that she thought it was a funny idea (See, why I like #37!  She has a great sense of humor – a necessity for someone like me).  A few weeks later I had actually written the first three entries on the blog and called her to tell her that I was actually going to go through with my blog idea.  I wanted to make sure that she was okay with me doing this, and that if she wasn’t, I wouldn’t go through with it.  She said to go for it*.

FUN FACT #4:  She would later joke that she had no choice but to agree with the blog idea since we had just started dating, and shooting down my idea as stupid wouldn’t be a great way to start a relationship.  She was joking, right?

            We officially started being boyfriend and girlfriend a month after we met that night at the bar.  And it was different than in the past when I worried whether I was moving too fast, or if she liked me or not.  Everything was going perfectly, which was weird for me.

            A couple of months later I got the call that I was going to meet #37’s parents.  I had only met a girlfriend’s parents once before, so I was a little nervous.  Everything went well, so I was excited.  As we were walking out of the restaurant, I was talking to #37’s mom, who had just added me as her Facebook friend a few days before we met.  I said that it was good to meet her, but that I felt like we had already met since we were friends on Facebook.  She responded, “I know! And I love your blog!”  (See why I like this girl!  Even her mom has a good sense of humor!)  You read that right, my girlfriends mom reads this.

            A while after this, #37 was over at my house hanging out, when she asked if she could look over that week’s blog entry, since she had seen a grammar mistake in one of the previous blog posts.  I said yes, and without thinking, opened the Word document that contained all of my blog posts.  The same Word file that contained a list with the names of every girl I had ever kissed, in order.  She saw them all, and knew several of the girls; one had been #37’s recruitment leader, another was her pledge class educator, one had gone to high school with her, one was her roommate at a wedding she sang at, and several of the girls were in her sorority.  Luckily, #37 is cool enough to put up with her boyfriend writing stories about every girl he had ever kissed.

I’m lucky to have her.

            And now, almost a year after we met, we are still kissing.

 

Next Week: Final Thoughts, and the Future of EGIEK

#36

EGIEK t-shirts are back in stock!  Contact Luke if you are interested! Or just tweet @E_G_I_E_K on Twitter.

“Don’t be such a tender daisy,” she’d said.  “They want you to ignore them.  You’re not doing them any favors if you don’t.  You need to pretend you’ve never seen them in your life.  The last thing in the world they want is you mooning around or acting guilty.  They’re sitting there praying to Jesus that you won’t embarrass them.”

~ Freedom, Jonathan Franzen

            Aside from Law Prom, the only other major social event in law school is the Halloween party.  I don’t know what it is about Halloween, but it always sneaks up on me, and my second year of law school was no different.  Luckily, a few days before the Halloween party, one of my good friends from undergrad agreed to go with me.

            My friend didn’t really know what she was getting herself into though, because I had decided to dress up as an Indian for that years Halloween.  Since I had been scantily clad for the previous law school Halloween party, I figured my only choice was to go skimpier and more scantily clad.  So I wore this:

 

            What made my costume even better was that my friend from undergrad was dressed up as an Indian too, except her costume completely covered her and was huge.  We looked the exact opposite of every other couple at the party.

            Another thing about my costume that you should know is that I made it from scratch.  They apparently don’t sell Indian headdresses in the toy section of Wal-Mart or in costume shops.  As a proud citizen of an Indian tribe, I think this is a terrible thing.  So I went out and bought every feather at my local Hobby Lobby and some white duct tape and created the above masterpiece.  I was very proud of this (which is why I had to say something).

            Anyway, once I got to the Halloween party, I quickly lost my friend from undergrad, at some point I won second place in the costume contest, and I met #36.  We talked briefly, danced, exchanged numbers, and I left.

 

FUN FACT #1: This is NOT #36.  This is my friend Kristin (she and her boyfriend were dressed as Fox and Hound)

            The next Monday after the Halloween party, I figured out that #36 was in two of my classes that semester.  In fact, I had sat next to her on the first day of one of my classes.  I hadn’t gotten to class early enough on the first day to sit next to my friend, so I was on the outside edge by #36.  The next time we had class, the teacher said he would pass around the seating chart*, so me and my friend got to class early and made sure we were sitting next to one another.  #36 had been left in the dust.

FUN FACT #2: Seating charts, another way law school is like high school.

            That week after Halloween, #36 started texting me randomly.  The strangest thing about our interaction was that we never acknowledged each other at school.  Ever.  Part of this is my strict rule of never staying at law school longer than absolutely necessary.  We would pass by each other without even glancing at one another.  Not a great sign for any relationship.  It made no sense to me then, makes no sense now.

            Around this time, the worst week and a half period of my life took place.  I won’t go into detail, mainly because I don’t want to, but suffice to say, it was terrible.  Right after the worst week and half period of my life, #36 randomly asked me to attend an Oklahoma City Thunder game with her.  Since I desperately needed to get my mind off of things, I was happy to go.

            While we were at the game, three things of note happened.  One, I ran into a group of four of my fraternity brothers form college, one of whom was in law school with me.  Running into large groups of friends on a date is always awkward, and I assume that is exactly the way I acted when I ran into them.  Two, we did not appear on the Kiss Cam.  The Kiss Cam is my favorite part of any sports event, bar none.  If you are ever with me at a sporting event where there is no Kiss Cam, you will hear me complain for days about the lack of Kiss Cam.  Once I went to a Thunder game and was in the bathroom when the Kiss Cam occurred.  I was inconsolable.  I nearly ran out of the bathroom with my pants down just to catch a glance of the final smooches, but restrained myself.  Whenever I am sitting next to a girl at a sporting event, my Kiss Cam awareness is especially heightened, because I could be up there*.  The third thing that happened at the game was that I put all my mental effort into watching that game.  I wanted to do something mindless and forget about everything that was happening in my life, and the Thunder game fit the bill.  This meant that I probably was a pretty inattentive date towards #36.  But I had a great time, and it was what I needed.

FUN FACT #3: I have never been featured on any Kiss Cam, but my Mom and Dad have been several times.  Gross!

              Another thing that made this date strange was that we rode in different cars to and from the city.  #36 worked in the city, so I had met her there.  After the game, #36 and I met back up at my house, where we eventually ended up kissing.  Our date had been exactly what I needed; an escape from everything going on in my life at the moment. 

            A few days after kissing #36, I stumbled upon a blog that she wrote on randomly.  On her blog, I found her most recent entry, about kissing a boy earlier in the week and how perfect and wonderful it had been.  “Great”, I thought to myself, “I am pretty perfect and wonderful, I’m glad that #36 enjoyed kissing me”.  However, as I continued reading #36’s blog post, many of the details from our date and the date she was describing didn’t seem to match up.

            Turns out the details didn’t match up because #36 had kissed someone else the next night, and apparently really enjoyed the experience.  I gave her blog a more in depth look to find the entry describing the kiss she shared with me, but it did not exist.  Suffice to say, we did not hang out again.  We also continued our practice of not acknowledging each other at school.

            That would be the end of my journey with #36, had it not been for this very blog that you are currently reading.  I started this blog a little over two and a half months after hanging out with #36, and quickly found out that she did not approve of its content.  She took issue with the fact that I refer to girls as numbers instead of using names, and that she thought this made it seem like women were only objects to me.  I realize that this is a pretty late in the blog game to talk about this, but it should be pretty obvious why I don’t use girl’s names in these blogs.  It is because I want the stories to have as much anonymity as possible when it comes to the girls’ identities.  I see where #36 was coming from, but talking with her about the subject made it very obvious that she had never read my blog.

            She might not like it, but she was the 36^th girl I ever kissed.

Next Week: #37, Boy Meets Girl, Girl Meets Blog, Blog Meets World (The Final Installment of EGIEK?)

#35

Sometimes, Thad knew, as a scientist, it was the molecules that only briefly touched that caused the biggest reactions.

~Ben Mezrich, Sex on the Moon: The Amazing Story Behind the Most Audacious Heist in History

            I met and kissed #35 in a twenty-four hour time span.  It was after kissing #35 that I first had the idea to create a blog detailing every girl I had ever kissed.

            I was in Stillwater for the weekend, staying once again on the couch at my sister’s house.  There was a football game the next day, so I had gotten into Stillwater a day early to go out to the bars.  It was at the bars that I first noticed #35.  I noticed her because it was very obvious that she was noticing me.  She was eyeing me hard. I don’t feel like I am exaggerating this (but it is possible that I am).

            I figured that I should go ahead and introduce myself to #35.  I figured out that I recognized her from my senior year of college, but we had never officially met.  I bought #35 a shot and continued to enjoy my night at the bar, figuring I wouldn’t see her again.

            The next day, while I was tailgating, I ran into #35 again.  I talked to her and told her that it was good to meet her the night before, and we talked briefly, then both went on our way, expecting to never see each other again.

            Freshmen Follies was also this weekend, and my brother, Chad, was performing in the show.  The next day I had swung by to talk to him as he was getting ready for the show, and who did I run into?  #35.  She was helping the girls get ready for Follies.  By this point I told her that it was getting kind of creepy that she was following me around like this.  It was cute at first, but she had taken it too far.  She laughed and said, “You wish”, and we went on our way.

            Of course I saw her again that night at Follies.  I saw her from across the theatre, so I figured that I had to say something.  I told her that I was going to the Follies After Party, in case she was wondering.  She told me that she pretty much had to go, since we had somehow spent nearly the whole day together.  I told her that I’d see her there.

            Ironically, I did not see #35 at the Follies After Party*, the one place we had planned on seeing each other, and she didn’t go.  She went to the bars with her friends instead.  This was fine by me; I was lost in a sea of Four Lokos and undergrads. 

*FUN FACT #1: I should point out that I was easily the oldest person at the Follies After Party.  If I had a nickel for every time someone told me, “I’m so glad you are here, I thought I was going to be the oldest person here”, I would have several nickels.

            Eventually the party got busted (as all good undergrad parties do), and everyone left.  Another house was hosting the Follies After-After Party, so car loads of people were going there.  I figured, when in Rome, do as the Romans* do, so I went to the party.  I was driven to the party in the back of a pickup.  The pickup had a tailgate cover on, so me and three other people were driven to the After-After Party in complete darkness.

*FUN FACT #2: Romans = eighteen year olds.

            After the After-After Party*, I walked back to my sister’s house, so I could finally go to sleep.  I was on my way, when I saw #35 walking towards her sorority house.  I was probably sixty yards away, but after two Four Lokos, sixty yards is nothing.

*FUN FACT #3: The hotel lobby. (Remix to Ignition, anybody?)

            Imagine #35’s surprise when she walked inside her sorority house, only to have me catch the door before it closed completely and burst in the door behind her.  I was greeted with a, “what are you doing here?”.  I explained that I had seen her as I was walking home and that I figured after our weekend of constantly running into each other, I should probably get her number.  She agreed and we talked briefly, and then I had to leave, because guys weren’t allowed in the house after two A.M.

            We talked for a second at the front door, and I suggested that a great end to our weekend’s story would be if we kissed.  She responded with, “Ohh, would it?”, and I leaned in and we kissed.  I walked back to The Firehouse (a.k.a. my sister’s house) thinking how crazy it had been that I’d ended up kissing #35 after such a long weekend.  A few days later I had the idea to start the blog that you are now currently reading.  But it would be several more months before I did anything about it.  So, while #35 didn’t have huge repercussions on my romantic life, she still had a part of a pretty big contribution to my life.

Next Week: #36, Absolutely Pissed

#34

I was never cool in school
I'm sure you don't remember me
and now it's been ten years
I'm still wondering who to be
and I love to mix in circles,
cliques and social coteries,
that's me
hand me my nose ring
(can we be happy?)
show me the mosh pit
(can we be happy?)
we can be happy
underground

~Underground, Ben Folds Five

            I met #34 my sophomore year of high school, not long after the events of the very first post of this blog began.  Little did I know that almost eight years later she would be the 34^th girl I’d ever kiss.

            I met #34 through various student council* activities my sophomore year.  She was a year old her than me, went to a different high school in the city, and eventually started to date one of my really good friends (who was also a year older).  We would all hang out together, my whole group of friends, #34 and whoever she would bring along.  I started hanging out a lot with my friend and #34 at her house during the summer between my sophomore year and junior year of high school.  We became really good friends as a result of her dating my friend.

FUN FACT #1: I was a pretty big student council nerd in high school.

            However, things eventually started to get weird.  One night, my friend had to leave #34’s house early in the night.  There were still people over at her place, so I stuck around.  I ended up staying over at #34’s way later than I intended to, just sitting around and talking.  #34 and I started to become good enough friends that we were hanging out just the two of us sometimes, if my friend was working or had something else to do.  As you can probably guess, I started to like #34*, even though she was dating one of my really good friends.  Looking back, this is kind of a crappy friend thing to do, but in my defense, I was sixteen years old.

*FUN FACT #2: Lets talk about the inherent likeability of girls who date our friends.  Are you ready?  This is my theory.  We, as people, hang out with people who are, for the most part, similar to us.  We are drawn to people who like the same things and find the same things funny.  Thus, when one of our friends get a girlfriend, suddenly we think, “she likes him! And they have a successful relationship! And I’m a lot like him!  She could just as easily liked me!  And then I’d be in a successful relationship!”  This is how I think the human mind works.  I couldn’t help it that I started to have a crush on #34!

            Eventually, my friend and #34 broke up.  #34 broke up with my friend on a playground.  Awkwardly, I was there when it happened, but so were about seven other random friends of both mine and #34s.  After this break up, my friend was naturally upset, but I kept hanging out with #34.  She was becoming one of my really good friends, one of my really good friends that I had a crush on, but still.

            About two weeks after the breakup, I was talking to my friend and he told me that he didn’t like it that I was still hanging out with #34.  “Bros before hoes”, he most likely said.  I felt bad about having a crush on his ex-girlfriend, since I was pretty sure this was crappy friend territory, so I told him I wouldn’t hang out with #34 anymore.  The last time I saw her my junior year was when I was sent over to her house by my friend to pick up the box of things he had given her.  I remember this being severely awkward.

Flash forward a year and a half.  My friend and #34 had both gone to college, and I was sure that I had forever missed my chance with #34, and I was pretty sad about this.  One night, I decided that I should write #34 a letter and let her know how I felt about that previous summer.  If I had access to the note I would reproduce it here, but thank God I don’t, because it could easily be the most embarrassing thing I could possibly read eight years later.  The gist of the letter was that I was sorry I messed things up with the girl I had liked the most in my life up to that point*, who I was pretty sure liked me too*.  I had one of my friends, Tatianna, deliver the letter to #34. 

*FUN FACT #3: Again, sixteen years old.

*FUN FACT #4: This was unconfirmed and pure speculation.

            Flash forward seven years, to the summer after my first year of law school, and #34 randomly Facebook messages me.  “You came up in my news feed! What are you doing with your life??”  That was all it took to get me back on the #34 train.  Girl, you are most likely only one random Facebook message away from instantly returning to a guy’s good graces.  I was hooked.  We started messaging back and forth, catching each other up on the other’s life (I was in law school! She had a real job and a house! We were grown ups!).  Eventually I asked for her number.

            Surprisingly, I didn’t really do anything with her number for a really long time, and when I did eventually start texting #34, our schedules were really hard to sync up.  After several weeks of trying to hang out, we finally did.  We met at her house and just sat around and talked for a really long time.  She had a puppy Goldendoodle that was a crazy ass dog, tearing its way through her house constantly.  But besides that, it was really nice catching up with #34.

            #34 and I keep in semi-contact over the next month, but I could never tell whether she was into me.  I kept getting really different signals.  One day she’d be flirty, and the next day she would be oddly mean.  This was all over text messages, so maybe I didn’t inferpret the meaning that she was trying to express.  This is the danger of text messaging.

A few weeks later I met a few friends out at a bar in Oklahoma City.  It was a Friday night, so the bars were pretty packed.  After being at the bar for about an hour, I ran into #34.  She joked that she was mad that I hadn’t told her I was going to be in the city.  We ended up talking for most of our remaining time at the bar, except for one major exception.  There was a fight at the bar.

            The fight seemed to consist of mostly people that #34 knew, because she quickly jumped in the fray to break things up.  The best part of the fight occurred right off the bat when one of the guys pushed the other guy to the ground, promptly stood straight up, took off his shirt, and then began to pummel the gentleman he had just pushed over.  It was so intense.  Naturally, the guy who had been beaten up was kicked out of the bar, while the victor was allowed to stay.

            I reconvened with #34.  She was upset about the fight, but was still entirely enjoyable to be around.  By this time, the bar was about to close, so everyone was leaving.  I walked out with the friend I had met there, #34 and #34’s friends from the fight.  Once we got outside we discovered that the guy who had been pummeled in the fight did not leave once he was kicked out, he had waited around to ensure that there was a round two.

            I scurried across the street to the parking lot, so that I could be out of the way of any errant punches, while still getting a good view of the action.  Luckily, several energy drink spokeswomen were packing up their wares in the parking lot, and gave several energy drinks* to my friend Robby and I so we could enjoy the fight.

*FUN FACT #5: One of these energy drinks would remain in my refrigerator for the next calendar year.

            Eventually the fight ended.  No one was seriously injured, except #34 had cut open her foot at some point.  She said that she was sorry about the fight(s) and that I should come over to her place.  Once we were at her house we tended to #34’s foot and then made out.  It was pretty great.  I couldn’t get over the fact that I was kissing the girl that I thought I would never have the chance to kiss.  Eventually we both fell asleep.

            I woke up early.  It was still dark, and my arm was outstretched in #34’s direction.  Before my eyes could adjust to the dark, I felt something soft and wet on my fingers.  In my mind, I thought, “that’s right.  #34 has finally had a taste of those sweet Luke kisses and she is ready for some more.  She is licking my fingers, just waiting to make out with me!”  However, as my eyes adjusted to the dark, I realized that it was #34’s Goldendoodle that was licking my fingers.  I was not amused.

            #34 invited me to attend a wedding with her the next day.  However, we didn’t end up attending the wedding together.  #34 and I never kissed again after that.  But one time was all I needed.  I had to wait seven years to kiss #34, and I’m glad I did.

FUN FACT #6: During my freshmen year of college, I took a creative writing class.  I ended up writing the story of #34, my high school friend and I.  (I’ve apparently always had a knack for writing about my love life.)  I turned in the story, and got it back a few weeks later.  The teacher told me that it needed a stronger ending.  I was mad about this critique, so I changed the story so that everyone in the story died in a car accident on the final page.  It was terrible.

Next Week: #35, The Birth of EGIEK