Second kiss

I had returned to my hometown a few months earlier, and was trying to meet new people. Expat life had taken its toll. My relationship to the place I was born was tenuous. But I was doing everything I could to remember that I belonged there. Rediscovering the places that I vaguely remembered from my childhood. Going to parties. Making friends with other natives (we were a dying breed). 

He was just another friend of a friend. I had gone on too many first dates and was exhausted. The party was supposed to be a break. And it was. It was a gorgeous day at the lake. We all dressed up for Purim...and St. Patrick's Day...and we brought pie for Pi day. I think I made a quiche, I don't remember exactly. He wore a wetsuit and brought a large dog. That much I remember. The rest is a blur.

When he messaged me later that day I still didn't think anything of it.  A new friend. One who was not in Tech, thank goodness, and who lived nearby (we still have this bridge issue here, no one wants to cross it). I scoffed at it before I moved back...until I discovered it's real.

We went out for a drink. The conversation flowed easily. One drink turned into two, and then drinks turned into tacos. How Oakland.

The first time he kissed me, it was nice. We were in the car stopped at a stoplight on Lakeshore. We were driving to the taco truck. It felt good. Nothing mind-blowing, but pleasant and sweet. After two drinks I was sort expecting it, but also sort of not.

The second time he kissed me we were outside my building. In that moment it was as if a lightening bolt had shot through me. Every part of my body lit up. My brain protested: "you barely know him, this isn't real, it's just lust." But my nerves, down through my neck and my spine, and out my fingers and toes, were alight with energy. It was unlike anything I'd ever experienced before. It took my breath away. I stumbled back into my apartment disoriented. 

"How'd it go?" asked my roommate when I walked in the door.

"Good?" I said. I still wasn't sure what to make of it, or him. 

"Good?" My roommate asked. "That's it?"

"Great," I replied.

I touched my lips and sleepwalked to my room. I fell backwards onto my bed, my hand still at my mouth. 

"Perfect,' I said to myself.