Juliet: You know, he kissed me.
Juliet: The other day, when you came back from the other side of the island, Jack kissed me.
Juliet: It was nice. But it wasn't for me. But it was for him. I'm pretty sure he was trying to prove something.
Kate: Prove what?
Juliet: That he doesn't love some else.
~LOST, Something Nice Back Home
I kissed #30 as a direct result of the series finale of the TV show LOST. LOST had been a pretty big part of my life*, and the finale was no different. I had watched every episode of the sixth and final season over at my friend Kristi’s house, because LOST is so much better to experience as part of a group, especially when the members of that group are flipping out about what is happening just as much as you are.
FUN FACT #1: Look no further to LOST’s lasting impact on my life than the very first post on this blog, where I use LOST as an example of what/why I am writing this blog.
I had decided to have several of my friends over to my house to watch the finale, and it was great. One of the guests that night was #30, however, she wasn’t able to get to my house until later in the night*, so she showed up late. I had met #30 earlier in the summer, when several of my friends met up to have drinks.
FUN FACT #2: We had DVR’d the show, but obviously weren’t going to wait for #30 to arrive to start watching. The finale was three hours long and promised to be filled with craziness. We tried to wait forty five minutes so that we could fast forward through the commercials, but after fifteen minutes we started anyway, commercials be damned.
After everyone left and LOST had ended forever (SINGLE TEAR), I got a text message from #30 asking if she could come over later in the week and watch the full finale over again. I agreed, and later in the week she was back over at my house, watching the LOST finale with me.
After another three hours of LOST had passed us by, I asked if #30 had anything else going on the rest of the evening, which she didn’t. We started to watch a movie, which quickly changed into making out while a movie played in the background. I was still feeling crappy following my lady-kissing drought from the previous semester, so putting me alone in a room with any girl for a three-hour period pretty much guaranteed I would try and kiss her.
The kissing was going good, except for one thing; #30 is a very short girl and I am a very tall man. I had never kissed a girl as short as #30 before, and it was . . . awkward. I won’t go into too much detail, just know that because of this tall/short combination, at one point #30 was on top of me making out, and she was literally choking me. I don’t even know how that works, but I could not breathe. I thought briefly what people would say if I died from being choked while making out, probably something along the lines of, “at least he died doing what he loved, kissin’ chicks”.
Another awkward thing that I was worried about was that the bathroom that attaches to my bedroom was being redone, and thus had a quarter size hole linking the bathroom to my roommate’s room. I kept worrying that my roommate was able to hear what I was saying or (worse) see what I was doing. It has always been my personal belief that nothing could be more embarrassing than another guy hearing what I talk about while kissing a girl. Who knows what I say? I am confident that it doesn’t make any sense.
Eventually the movie we were watching ended and #30 left my house. We never hung out again after that. Part of this was because #30 went on a long vacation a few days after we kissed, part was because neither #30 nor I ever asked to be the other’s Facebook friend. I contend that this is an amicable breakup.
Next Week: #31, Misread Signals & A Shameful Walk