On Picking Up Older Women

When I was at the airport yesterday, I saw the most beautiful woman in front of me in line getting her bags checked (in more ways than one, wink, wink). She had long blondish/brownish hair, a pretty face, was wearing one of those long, form-fitting coats that was nice and tight around her butt, and was all by herself, save the man that kept going back and forth from somewhere that she referred to as "Dad." All this and she was somewhat older, maybe late-twenties/early-thirties, and a very lovely woman. And though the notion was impossible, I was thinking about how I could go about picking her up.
The thing about being college-aged, though, is that I am kind of limited to what kind of women I can get with. I can't get with women who are younger than college age, because they are not women at all, they are girls, and there's that whole statutory rape clause for people under eighteen. But I could not possibly get with someone older than college age, either. Nothing would work. I mean, it's not like I "do" anything, so I couldn't strike up a conversation with an older woman and tell her I'm a student. What would she say? There would be no chance of meeting her again. It would be very unlikely that she would just fall in love with me through our first encounter.
Older women, especially the kind of woman that I saw at the airport (twenty-something/thirty-something), most always have something going for them, or at least something that they would be in the middle of, be it a job, a divorce, a kid, jail time, something that would get in the way of a relationship between me and her. And thus, I say it would be impossible for me to get involved with a woman older than college age. I am not one that believes that partnership should be limited by age, and I am more than willing to look for involvement with women who are both older and younger than me, yet at this point in time, it just doesn't seem probable, except on a much-smaller, four-year scale.

D.Construction

I am a Fischer by birth, which obligates me in some respect to devote a certain amount of time and energy to Fischer Builders, Inc. A. Fischer Builders, Inc. is the construction company started by Frank Fischer (my late great-grandfather) in Quincy, Illinois, in the 1930s. It has been owned and operated by my grandfather, Alan Fischer, for about the last fifty years, making it the patriarchal institution around which my father's side of the family has been built.
Everyone, from my grandmother and grandfather's five kids to each and every one of their kids, has done his or her part in keeping up with the company and keeping it and, in turn, the family running smoothly. That's not to say that it is a family requirement to serve time in the company like the armed forces before going off to the real world, but for some in the family, it is tradition and a way of life. For others who are less involved, my grandpa uses the company as an opportunity to employ dependable labor as is needed and give his grandkids the opportunity to make a little cash when wanted.
My grandfather is a very generous man, but he is also one to make you respect the value of earning a dollar. Every once in a while, he will give us grandkids a chance to work for the company in some, usually light, capacity to occupy our time, which would otherwise be spent lounging about, and a chance to put a little hair on our chins (or in Lindsey's and Alissa's case, a chance to break some nails).

But like I alluded to before, for some of us at Fischer Builders, construction is a way of life. This is not the case for me. I was born a Fischer, but not a Fischer Builder. Fortunately or unfortunately, the construction blood does not run through me. And every time I go back there to do something extremely manly, I cannot help but feel diminished by my cousins and fellow colleagues, who have been building houses and driving heavy machinery around since they were all fourteen years old or younger.
I am speaking mainly about my four cousins specifically, Chad, Nathan, Ryan, and Evan, who are the offspring of my dad's one-year-older (to-the-day) brother Greg and his lovely wife, Deb (they also have one daughter, the aforementioned Alissa). Anyway, these four gentlemen, who are all older than me (Evan being the youngest, older than me by a year) and were more or less born into the construction company, have all been described as gorgeous, exceedingly handsome men; and they all perform construction tasks as if it is second nature to them, or even first nature. The four of them all went into the Fischer Builders organization during high school and have been working there ever since, save Chad, the eldest.
Anyway, every time I go back to work for Fischer Builders, I somehow end up doing the most menial tasks possible, a.k.a. the bitch work, every time as I do not possess the skills and talents needed to perform the "real work." Most of time, I am working with Tyler or Jordan, who are not even Fischers at all, by the fact that they are the offspring of my father's oldest younger sister, Lori and her husband Dan Stroot (they also have one daughter, in between the two boys and my age, the aforementioned Lindsey). But Tyler and Jordan, still, are both better-looking and more athletic than I am, similar to Greg's boys. When I am working with them, though, I feel much more comfortable and much more equal (maybe because we're all doing bitch work!), and tend to have a pretty fun time, most of the time.
But when I am working with Ryan, Nathan, or Evan, I cannot help but feeling violently emasculated and exceedingly jealous when they can do something so well that I can't do at all. They seem to get by so easily when moving heavy loads around, or hopping on and off backhoes and forklifts and trucks. How could any girl like me? How could anyone find me attractive when I can't do that stuff? I feel so worthless when I am just standing around watching them do actual labor.
I got some leverage the other day, though, when the project was tearing the roof off of the old warehouse in which Fischer Builders houses its extra materials, and which Jordan, Tyler, and I had spent the last week cleaning out and organizing. I spent the first part of the morning tidying up some things with Nathan (made me feel like a dope), after which I reluctantly climbed up above and began tearing the roof off with my lesser-construction-minded cousins Tyler and Jordan, amongst others.
I was initially freaked out because heights really do not entice me, nor do ladders. These fears were heightened by the shoddy condition of the roof we were deconstructing. When I arrived, Tyler had already poked his foot through one of the many rotting boards that had been in place underneath the shingles. With the condition of the aging planks, it was only with much caution that we crossed stepping only on the rafters. Upon later interrogation, my cousin and veteran construction worker Ryan told that this roof was an "11" on the 1-10 scale of worst roofs he'd ever seen. Though I didn't believe him, I did watch and work as the rest of us did with careful consideration throughout the day pulling up shingles and nails, minding our steps and concentrating heavily on not killing ourselves.
As time went by, it became easier and easier to get the job done, I was able to get over my initial fears and put myself into hard work mode in order to accomplish my task. With all of us working together, we got the entire side done in a matter of hours, despite the ramshackle condition of the support boards underneath. By the end of the day, I was the last one of us part-time grandsons to actually finish the job with the other full-timers. The other part-timers had given up, wishing to finish the next day, leaving Jordan, Ryan, and I to combat the remainder of this beastly project, however dangerous and precariously close to the edge on the worst corner of the entire building it may have been. But nevertheless, we finished the job, and I had a great time doing it. I felt very fulfilled about the task I had just performed. I had fun, I conquered my fears, and in the end I felt much more equal to my other cousins. After participating in a family activity such as that, my masculinity had returned to me and I learned that in order to conquer your fears, you not only have to face your fears, but you must also embrace them.

Christmas

Some say it is the most wonderful time of the year. I have met others (mostly of non-Christian backgrounds) in recent years that somehow despise it, though. And whether your reasons for not liking Christmas are justifiable or not, and whether you like it or not, it is inexplicable not to say that Christmas is a force to be reckoned with. No matter who you are, be it a jolly old elf, or a boring, uptight Scrooge with coal up your butt, or even a Jew, you can't argue with the fact that people act differently around the Christmas season.
People become more generous and caring, due to the mostly beneficial and sometimes inconvenient obligatory gift-giving rituals; people sometimes become more cold and shallow, only becoming more of a target for those billowing over with their infectious holiday cheer; and there are even those who find ways to completely ignore it altogether, whom we have probably missed. But no matter how you feel about Christmas and what category you fall into, there are some things about Christmas that just aren't going to change.
Firstly, the decorations are just going to get brighter, louder, and more gaudy each passing year. The technology we have embraced that allows us to engage our cell phones, big screen TV's, and automobiles during the remainder of the year has given way to people everywhere who take pride in the simpler things in life, such as light displays and miniature, quaint Christmas villages. Secondly, you can't argue with family traditions. No matter what changes occur within a family, if a tradition is strong enough, it will stand tall. It is usually something that has been done for a long time, has meant something to prior generations, and should, by now, mean something to you. It could be something as little as letting the youngest family member open the first present, or something as outlandish and embarrassing as Uncle Bob's annual turkey carcass puppet show.
One other thing that will never change is that your family will always be embarrassing to you in some way at some time. It doesn't matter what role you have in the family, everyone is ashamed of their family one or more times during the holidays. During each family holiday get-together, be it Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter, or others, you know that the best food there is always going to be the stuffing. Stuffing is a default and delicious part of any gourmet family banquet. True, that some stuffing is better than others, and that maybe the right person doesn't bring it every year, but you know, that no matter what happens to that stuffing, it's going to get eaten. That is a guarantee, and it is one that even the Pilgrims knew.
The last unchanging part of Christmas that I would like to touch on is one that upsets me some, but it is something that I notice every year and it bothers me. Every year, on Christmas Day, or in the time frame immediately surrounding it, people alter their behavior, or sometimes correct others with the excuse that, "it's Christmas." Maybe a person will be doing something unexemplary, like pranking his/her senile grandmother by stealing her food, and he or she will get reprimanded by a superior saying, "Don't do that, it's Christmas!" Maybe a person will think to themselves while doing some last-minute shopping, "Yeah, it's Christmas, maybe I won't park in the handicapped spot today." But Christmas, in my mind, is not a time for a person to dramatically change his or her behavior. It's not an excuse to judge or repent.
Christmas should be an example of how people should feel and act throughout the year. It should be a time to reflect about how one has lived the past year and, in turn, how one should live the next year or years. And maybe that means switching categories to a different viewpoint of Christmas, or maybe that means making a new year's resolution that you're going to fall back on in two weeks. No matter what it is, it shouldn't be a change that has to come about just by someone telling you, "it's Christmas." It shouldn't even be because of somebody's mental preaching that he may or may not have published on the internet. It has to be a decision or a discovery that you make on your own, in order to be a little more real; a little more concrete than even Christmas itself.

What you want

When I first felt the pain and discomfort of coming back to Quincy after I had lost my father, I received a lot of attention and pity and handouts. I didn't necessarily receive the support I wanted. I don't think that kind of support was available from anyone except my father.
It's been more than a year now since I've had to live without that support and now whenever I come back to Quincy I don't necessarily feel the pain, though I know it's still there, but I feel a lot of discomfort. Whenever somebody dies, the cliche goes around about what "he/she would have wanted". We all have these fictitious ideas of what we think the deceased would have really wanted. We look to the last will and testament of the deceased and find out what kind of state they wanted us to be in if and when they passed. But nobody really knows what they wanted. Only they did. And it always happens that they just didn't have time to tell us what it was.

What you want is important. It is part of what makes you who you are and what you do. It could be a little more than you need at times; and it could be something that nobody would ever expect of you. But if it's what you want, it's what makes you. You have to live life the way you want it. Nobody else is going to know what you want. If you don't live your life with what you want in mind, you're not going to get it, and what you want will be lost and forgotten right along with you.

On orientation

When people ask you where you are from, you usually have a pretty definitive answer, don't you? Or you should at least. I have a unique position because I never know quite how to answer the question. I feel like I have three homes. I have lived in three specific places where I have grown and matured and met people that I feel strongly for who live near or around each of those places.
When I answer the question, I don't know what to say. Do I answer the place where I was born and raised, the place where I made my first friendships, made my first sacrifices, and still have strong connections to? Do I answer the place where my roots lie, where my family and predecessors come from, where the possibility for my very existence came to power, and where I know I will always be loved? Or do I answer the place where I most recently have come from, developing me into the person I am today, the place that has most recently shaped my future?

I have a dilemma, because I have choices. I have three quasi-perfect worlds that I cling to and continue to make strides in, attempting to make them all the more perfect for me and my future, whatever that may be.

My first perfect world is the place where I was brought into this world. It is the place of my first memories, my closest friends, and my deepest feelings. In Bethel, Connecticut, and the surrounding area (Danbury, Redding, New York City, the east coast) I yearn for my childhood, which I never want to give up. When I'm there, I feel in a small sense that I return to myself and the person I once was and truly want to be. I feel freedom like one would not believe, and in New York City, I feel most alive; that the possibilities are endless. My heart belongs to the city and the great things that are associated with it. I cannot speak enough about it. It is just something that I feel that cannot be ignored.

My second perfect world is the place where my family comes from, and it's far from perfect. Quincy, Illinois, is the place where all of my family lives, save few exceptions. Family is always present there, and although I did not really feel it growing up, I always knew it. Quincy was never going to change and it still isn't. A visiting college friend of a high school buddy of mine coined Quincy as "the land that time forgot." It is true that Quincy, being very small, very religious, and very conservative, could be described as not progressing very quickly. Quincy relies on the "old way" of thinking and is not very welcome to change. True that Quincy is slowly becoming more liberal, but at a price. It seems that the liberal people are all money-grubbing yuppies who don't know what to think except what they see on TV. And further there are people who trick you into thinking that they are progressive and accepting of other ways of life, but are really trapped in the same old method of perpetuating the status quo. Quincy is a place that I love and hate very much at the same time. And I fear that by staying here, I could be successful and never really want to leave, but I would not be getting what I really want.

The final place where I come from is Beloit College. It is my most recent departure point and it is where I have lived the majority of the last three years. It has changed me and offered me things that I could have never gained elsewhere. It is also a haven for people like me, who have no direction in life and are searching for answers. In that case, it is a refuge for me because I can live happily among friends and basically do whatever I want. But the rub is that I have but a limited time for which I can do that. At which point, I must make a decision about where to carry on.

Compromise is not something that I like to do. I am an all or nothing type of guy. Adaptation is something, on the other hand, that I do quite well. This is evident through all the changes I've had to make in my life. More or less, I can do whatever I want, but for the most immediate future, I must be able to make a decision about what people I want to be around the most, or if I want to be around anybody at all. In a funny and ironic way, I feel like I get the most respect from my friends when I distance myself from them. I always have good times when I'm around them, but they always seem to appreciate me more when I'm gone. In order to truly appreciate what kind of a person I really am, my friends and acquaintances have to be separate from me, which ultimately leaves me by myself. It's a good thing I have my trusty computer by my side to tell all this to.

Closure

Towards the middle of the semester, I was really getting sick of school. About 2/3 of the way through, I really hated it. Everything was crashing down on me. I have too much responsibility. I was the president of my fraternity during some really awkward periods, which was quite draining. I was in the musical Guys and Dolls, which kept me occupied for most nights and some days. I had classes that I was skipping and doing poorly in, and I was totally flunking all of my music lessons. All this while trying to maintain relationships with people that had gone sour in recent events. Not to mention having my family back home that is in constant need of contact.

As the end of the semester approached, my plate got a little less full day by day. The play ended, I gave up my presidency, and all I had left to deal with was my academics. Though my priorities were large, I took them one at a time and was able to work through them all. The end of the semester saw relief, regret, and a certain amount of accomplishment. In the most recent events, I feel that, though I was not an exemplary student, I left the semester in a good place. I don't think any of my teachers harbor any disdain towards me as a student, but instead generally like me as a person, which is a very good feeling.

I had almost the perfect ending to the semester that I could have. I finished up all my projects, studied for and took my last exam. I helped as many people as I could have during the last few weeks. I shared some laughs, shared some drinks, shared some meals, and shared some fellowship. I spent some one-on-one time with some very special people, and left firm impressions on some lasting relationships. Everything went well in the last two weeks, and I feel that I am well-prepared for next semester. On paper, next semester looks like it will be easier and more fun for me. I hope this is true, but I also hope to get a lot more accomplished. This semester snuck past me, stealing some of my life and energy along with it. Nevertheless, though, I finished the semester with a great sense of closure, and an insatiable desire to go on. I have a feeling I am going to have a very productive Christmas break, as I want to return to Beloit more now than ever before.

The Cruel Tutelage of the Gas Gauge

Go ahead, Gas Gauge, move your dial closer and closer to the E. See what I care. You don't scare me, Gas Gauge, with your threats of empty gas tanks and sputtering engines, and cars sidelined, leaving their drivers stranded to find a way to their destinations. I have confidence that I get good enough gas mileage to get to my destination. I believe I took the time and effort and consideration when taking care of my vehicle, when preparing for my trip, to get right where I needed to go in just the right amount of time, using just the right amount of fuel. You can sink lower and light up the dashboard all you want, Gas Gauge, but know this, I'm not stopping.
You've taken enough life out of me, Gas Gauge, to suffice for your greedy indulgences. I am not going to be a slave to you any more. There is nothing you could tell me that would make me want to pull over and feed you some more of that despicable liquid that makes cities burn and people turn against each other. I AM NOT GOING TO FEED YOUR ADDICTION!!! You can stop asking me right now, 'cause you are not going to get the answer that you want. You can beg and plead, be polite, offer me promises, or do whatever you want, but I am not listening to you, Gas Gauge, not any more.
I think, by now, I've made my point and you should be able to realize who is boss in this situation. You need to just sit there and think about your actions and the consequences. You'll figure out that they are not going to get you ANYWHERE!!! We only have a few miles to go and you can hold out that long until we are both ready to go on.
Now, what is that noise?
Why is the car slowing down?
What's happening to my engine?
I have to pull over. And now my car is dead on the side of the road, just three miles from where I need to be. I'LL GET YOU FOR THIS, GAS GAUGE, IF IT'S THE LAST THING I'LL DO!!!!!!!! YOU'LL PAY!!!!! YOU WILL PAY DEARLY!!!!!!!

A Modern Savior?

Recently I came under the circumstances that I had to transport a queen-sized mattress up two flights of stairs. While in the transition, some thoughts came to my mind, due to my Catholic upbringing and my recent viewing of scenes from Mel Gibson's "The Passion". Carrying a queen-size mattress up two flights of stairs by oneself is quite a difficult task. Being a big, floppy square object, it was quite difficult to get a good grasp of the mattress, making it quite cumbersome. Not a particularly heavy object, the mattress proved uneasy to move because of its shape, size, and the pathway through which I was moving it.
At one point on my trek, I had the mattress directly on my back and I wondered if the situation was comparable at all to the trip Jesus made up the hill of Calvary carrying his cross to his own crucifixion. Though a cross would have been much heavier to carry and not nearly as cushiony, I feel like I got a small taste of what the messiah must have gone through as I fell at least three times and, upon reaching my destination at the top of the hill of dorm building, I flung myself across the mattress in a position that was very similar to that of Jesus being nailed to the crucifix.

Does this mean that I exemplify Christ-like tendencies? Does it mean that I am in fact another savior of nations? Or does it mean that I'm just a pansy when moving furniture?

Musicianship

As I sit through the student recital that concludes the semester of private music lessons at Beloit College, I entertain thoughts of how horrible each string soloist's performance is. Not horrible, but mediocre at best. I can't imagine how difficult it must be to play a violin, viola, or cello well, but I know that it is possible as I've heard professional recordings of both solo and ensemble string performances, and I know that it is possible to play a string instrument well.
The two main ingredients of musicianship, I feel, are as follows: technical ability, which is the range, speed, and accuracy at which you are able to play, and tone, which is the sound your instrument makes when you play it, and whether or not it is in tune or not, or if it sounds good or not.
The student performers that performed on Monday night did not have the greatest musicianship. Though occasional performers were able to achieve one part of the equation, it seemed like nobody was able to pull of the whole picture. It is a rare occasion that a person is able to incorporate every part of musicianship well, which brings me to my next point.
At the point in which somebody does become a full-fledged musician, that person will tend to get cocky or chauvinistic or pretentious about his or her talent. Becoming a musician usually involves giving up some human characteristics that make one a decent person. One of these is humility. If a person were to be both humble and a talented musician, that person would undoubtedly have to give up some amount of musicianship to retain said humility.
It is no wonder why a person of such extreme talent would get to be cocky and pretentious. They would be critical of everyone else's abilities and hold their head up high above everyone else's. But just because they are talented doesn't give them the right to be assholes.
Thus I must make a request. I, being a musician by trade, have a long way to go before I would ever be able to make a living professionally as a musician, and I do not think I would ever achieve the talent or ability necessary to do that. But if I ever did, I would rather give it up than be obnoxious and rude to people. So if ever that happens, I would rely on my public to keep me in check and remind me if I ever lose my dignity and humility.

The Temptations

The other night I watched a performance of selections from John Milton's "Paradise Lost". The long and short of the story is an in-depth look at the interactions among Adam, Eve, God, and Satan, in the Garden of Eden set within the Biblical context. Basically the moral of the story is that temptation is a cruel beast of burden that we all must face, and that by giving in to temptation, you are forced to deal with the consequences that follow.
Temptation surrounds all of us, from that billboard with the hot strippers to that last brownie that is just calling your name, and the problem that we all face is that it is so easy just to let yourself slip that first time. That first time you decided to go about five over the speed limit, because there was nobody in front of you and it would save you time, was a choice and you may have made it without giving it much thought. The next time you drive, though, there's going to be a little extra pick-up in your motion, because you were able to get away with it so easily, and maybe it payed off by getting you somewhere faster or giving you a slight thrill, and before you know it, you're driving forty-five in a thirty, getting irritated at the people in front of you, because you HAVE to pick up your Starbucks and your dry cleaning before your favorite TV show starts. No matter how it happened, the line has been crossed, the threshold breached, and the temptation given in to, and you are letting a new force control a small part of your life.

This is an easy principle to grasp, yet one that is surely missed as we take it for granted so often. In this world, where temptations are made less known as temptations, they become easy choices to make, and in some cases, easy traps to fall into. But the temptations are still there, from the pleasures of the flesh to the sweet, sweet taste of alcohol. The key to disciplining oneself on the avoidance of temptations is to remember that sometimes giving in to that temptation too many times can lead to an addiction, or a disease, or some other unfortunate side effect.
The thrill of giving in to a temptation could probably be mostly regarded as being short-term, but it could be the best thing you could do in your life. The possibilities are endless, and the amount of temptations that are out there outnumber the stars in the sky. Since we don't live in the Garden of Eden, though, it is necessary to put checks on ourselves, via laws or conservative people, so that we don't end up losing our own paradise.

Superheroes in real-time

Lately, I have been a civil servant much more often than I would normally. I feel kind of like a superhero in a way. I have things that everybody wants, and everybody wants me. It's quite self-centered, I know, but I can't help but think about all the good deeds I've done in the past four or five days. I have been lending my super vehicle out to everybody who wants it everyday this week, I have been lending my services out to various individuals, both in public and in secrecy, and I have been standing up for what is just and right in the world.
I feel like I've been very helpful to people and that makes me feel good about myself. My plans for this holiday season are to dish out my generosity both in actions and in gifts and to make people feel good. Some people do not enjoy the holidays, this can be due to past holiday experiences that were not enjoyable. But no matter how one spends the holidays, I will try to fulfill my superhero duties by giving others at least something to appreciate.

Different

Many people use the phrase, "different as night and day," as an appropriate simile when comparing dissimilar things. I, on the other hand, do not regard this statement to be as true as we all think it. Night and day are different, but not nearly as different as some other things in life. If one were to think of it like I do, night and day could never be different, because no matter where you are and what time of day it is, being night or day, it is always the opposite somewhere else in the world. So, in the course of twenty-four hours, night and day never change. But the comparison is still there to make, and it is a much easier one to reference than the one I am about to bring up.

Burying the dead is something that we've all had to do. It is an unavoidable part of life that crushes your spirit, tests your strength, and urges you to change your own life in one way or another. It brings reality to your attention at shock value. To me, there is nothing more real in life than seeing the dead body of someone you may or may not have loved. Death is the culmination of existence and is something that everybody witnesses in life, before actually going through it oneself. To me there is no greater comparison than the one that can be said about life and death. The comparison of a room full of people, congregating in front of a deceased loved one, perhaps filled with warmth, compassion, tenderness, sadness, hate, anger, depression, some kind of emotion that gives them life and the body in front of which they are assembled which remains cold, motionless, still, and lifeless is a comparison that is inequivalent to any other.
The dead never quite look like what you expect them, and they never measure up to how beautiful they looked in life. There is no greater difference than the difference between life and death. The comparison of night and day does not compare to that of life and death. It is such that makes life so precious, and death so painstakingly real. But it is also that which gives some kind of assurance and comfort that even though we may not all be able to be united in life, we will all some day be united in death.

Alternate Ending

It has been brought to my attention that I have something of a following when it comes to my blog, and members of the audience express their discontent when I fail to express myself day in and day out. To those people I would like to say, that this blog is an opportunity for me to express myself how I wish at my own pace. This is not an open forum and it is not a daily editorial for which I serve as your entertainment. If you wish to make a comment, I heartily appreciate and look forward to comments left by readers, and in the same respect, am disappointed myself when people don't respond to me. So, the moral of the story is that the door swings both ways, and when I am in control, you are at my mercy.

Moving on, last night, I toyed around with the idea of including a different ending to my little dabbling in erotica (I could go farther). But I decided to go with the ending that best represented my vast array of feelings, rather than go for the obvious joke, which is what I usually do. In the past, the majority of my posts have been largely intended to be humorous, so I went with a slight change, which more accurately represents my thoughts, I feel.

But, for the enjoyment of my readers, I will now retell the story of my most recent publication with a different ending. I hope everyone can appreciate this as much as the last.

(Jimmy was right, this whole thing is very narcissistic. Oh, well.)

The perfect kiss:
You stare intently into your lover's eyes, looking fondly and deeply into their soul, trying to find the perfect moment to lure them into a quiet embrace, an unrequited exchange of pure romance. As the intensity starts to build, the two of you lock arms around each other and you begin to draw yourselves in closer for a fair kiss, a greeting of endless possibilities, a multitude of meanings, and a realm of overwhelming feelings. Your heart begins to move faster as your eyelids close, your lips part, and you lean in to plant the perfect kiss on your lover. Time slows, it gets harder to breathe, you cannot see or feel anything but the warm presence of your companion and, as a wave of euphoria rushes over you, your two faces meet in a lip lock that could save the free world. Your mouths are moist, but not slobbery, giving you the chance to become intimate with every inch of your lover's lips. Moving slowly up and down and from side to side, every corner of the mouth is covered, the lips of your lover becoming completely enraptured in your very own. Your jaw drops slightly allowing your tongue to move effortlessly forth and glide along the roof of your mouth to meet your lover's front teeth. It moves forward, sliding smoothly along the inside of your lover's mouth, over the tops of their teeth, pleasantly inviting them to do the same, and the two tongues meet in the middle in an embrace of their own, thrusting your own passion further into the kiss. You grab your lover even harder and pull them closer to you, as close as you can possibly get, while you begin to gently feel your lover rustle their hands through your hair, giving you goosebumps on the back of your neck. Enthralled, your breathing gets heavy and your pulse races as you are overcome with passion. Your heads and bodies move side by side together, as if you already know the motions of your lover, and you grasp each other tighter and closer yet. Your two tongues continue to dance frivolously inside as your mouths cling to each other like suction cups sealed with love. You begin to feel your hands move slowly across your lover's body, effortlessly, as if they had feelings of their own. Your fingertips glide along, giving tantalizing sensation to anything they touch, caressing every inch they come across, enticing each minuscule hair and follicle on your lover's skin to stand on end as you pass it by. Your bodies, no longer two separate entities, but as one expressive form move in fluid motion as the kiss prolongs. The silence that is around you is like music to your ears as the connection between you and your lover grows deeper and stronger with every passing second. Your mind acts as a sponge, soaking up every bit of passion and ecstasy it can possibly attain. You begin to feel more and more secure with this person, and want to share everything you have with them. The kiss that began as a sweet, delightful gesture has now grown into a deep emotional connection, with your bodies responding appropriately. You feel uncontrollably stimulated. The taste and smell of your lover has penetrated you and you become filled with desire to fully indulge the senses in the pleasure of each other's company. As you move forward, you are filled with deep concentration. You lower your gaze and take your lips from your lover's in an immaculate release. Clutching each other, the two of you place your heads side by side, and you turn, resting your mouth just outside your lover's ear. Calmly taking a breath, your head drifts forward and your lips begin to articulate the three words that encompass everything that has happened between the two of you, commemorating the past, present, and future. These three words that could only have relevance of this moment, "I have mono."

The perfect kiss

You stare intently into your lover's eyes, looking fondly and deeply into their soul, trying to find the perfect moment to lure them into a quiet embrace, an unrequited exchange of pure romance. As the intensity starts to build, the two of you lock arms around each other and you begin to draw yourselves in closer for a fair kiss, a greeting of endless possibilities, a multitude of meanings, and a realm of overwhelming feelings. Your heart begins to move faster as your eyelids close, your lips part, and you lean in to plant the perfect kiss on your lover. Time slows, it gets harder to breathe, you cannot see or feel anything but the warm presence of your companion and, as a wave of euphoria rushes over you, your two faces meet in a lip lock that could save the free world. Your mouths are moist, but not slobbery, giving you the chance to become intimate with every inch of your lover's lips. Moving slowly up and down and from side to side, every corner of the mouth is covered, the lips of your lover becoming completely enraptured in your very own. Your jaw drops slightly allowing your tongue to move effortlessly forth and glide along the roof of your mouth to meet your lover's front teeth. It moves forward, sliding smoothly along the inside of your lover's mouth, over the tops of their teeth, pleasantly inviting them to do the same, and the two tongues meet in the middle in an embrace of their own, thrusting your own passion further into the kiss. You grab your lover even harder and pull them closer to you, as close as you can possibly get, while you begin to gently feel your lover rustle their hands through your hair, giving you goosebumps on the back of your neck. Enthralled, your breathing gets heavy and your pulse races as you are overcome with passion. Your heads and bodies move side by side together, as if you already know the motions of your lover, and you grasp each other tighter and closer yet. Your two tongues continue to dance frivolously inside as your mouths cling to each other like suction cups sealed with love. You begin to feel your hands move slowly across your lover's body, effortlessly, as if they had feelings of their own. Your fingertips glide along, giving tantalizing sensation to anything they touch, caressing every inch they come across, enticing each minuscule hair and follicle on your lover's skin to stand on end as you pass it by. Your bodies, no longer two separate entities, but as one expressive form move in fluid motion as the kiss prolongs. The silence that is around you is like music to your ears as the connection between you and your lover grows deeper and stronger with every passing second. Your mind acts as a sponge, soaking up every bit of passion and ecstasy it can possibly attain. You begin to feel more and more secure with this person, and want to share everything you have with them. The kiss that began as a sweet, delightful gesture has now grown into a deep emotional connection, with your bodies responding appropriately. You feel uncontrollably stimulated. The taste and smell of your lover has penetrated you and you become filled with desire to fully indulge the senses in the pleasure of each other's company. As you move forward, you are filled with deep concentration. You lower your gaze and take your lips from your lover's in an immaculate release. Clutching each other, the two of you place your heads side by side, and you turn, resting your mouth just outside your lover's ear. Calmly taking a breath, your head drifts forward and your lips begin to articulate the three words that encompass everything that has happened between the two of you, commemorating the past, present, and future. These three words you both feel so truly, and you simultaneously whisper, "I love you."