Sunday, 22 May 2016
I only kiss gay men, and my relatives.
..A surprisingly accurate summary of my love life.
For the past few months, I've had my lips on serious lockdown, and I'm not sure why. It could be because I've ran out of people to kiss, or it could be because I'm actually related to a lot of people in the Greater Manchester area, and I have no idea what they look like. Or, it could be because I've recently discovered that Brandon Flowers lied to us all - it's rarely 'only a kiss'.
Sure, it was different when we were younger. My friends and I would don our awful bodycon skirts and our stupidly high heels, and we’d head out on out-out. You wouldn’t be allowed drinks on the dance floor, so we’d throw back our 'three for one' drinks like we'd been buried in some sort of desert hole for weeks (when Lady GaGa's Poker Face was playing, you had to dance – those were the rules). But, seeing off that much vodka, in such a short space of time, meant that almost everyone was on the prowl. The dancefloor would be full of hormonal teenagers who were desperate to dry-rub their disco genitals against someone else. If you were single, there's a high chance you spent your night spreading your ethanol-drenched saliva about. If you weren't single, there's still a high chance you spent your night spreading your ethanol-drenched saliva about. We'd kiss each other, we'd kiss strangers, and then we'd kiss each other again. Yeah, it was incestuous, but we didn't really care back then (by ‘we’, I definitely mean ‘I’).
At Uni, it was worse...a lot worse. No one lived with their parents, everyone was legally allowed to drink, and the drinks were cheap. It's why most relationships don't survive Freshers’ Week; you're convinced that having the freedom to kiss multiple strangers every night is better than staying loyal to someone who actually knows your full name. And at that time in your life, it probably is the better option; you're young, and you're not responsible for anyone but yourself…it’s the perfect time to make lots of mistakes (in my opinion, it's much better to go through your ‘being a dick’ stage when it doesn’t affect anyone else).
Since entering the ‘real world’, I’ve realised that I'd often kiss people for all the wrong reasons. Sometimes it’d be because I needed an ego-boost, but most of the time it’d be because I was bored. Occasionally, I’d kiss a total stranger just to persuade the person that I’m actually into that I don’t care about them. I know…ten points to dickindor. But, you know how girls are always told that boys are mean to the girls they fancy? I think I took it as backwards dating advice…I became that mean boy.
Anyway, maybe becoming more self-aware is what ruined casual kissing for me. Or maybe it’s because everyone is older, and everyone cares more now. You might not realise it (I definitely didn’t), but there’s a big chance you’re fucking someone over, somehow.
It might be that the person you're ‘only’ kissing is actually really into you, so you’re giving them false hope that you're into them too, and no one needs to be on that emotional rollercoaster; it always ends with crushing rejection. Sure, they might still have all of their limbs when they get off that ride, but they’ll have to spend a good few weeks scraping their splattered ego off of those rusty, metal railings (and no one enjoys being on either end of that lawsuit).
Even if you're ‘only’ kissing a total stranger, you're probably fucking over your friend who you’ve ditched. Despite the thumbs up they’re giving you, it's rare that someone is actually comfortable dancing on their own, whilst they watch their friend eat someone else's face.
Plus, if I’m brutally honest, nuns probably get more tongue action than me these days because I’m so over drunken kisses with people I don’t know, or care about. It might be a quick-fix for my ego, but all I’m left with is a lipstick-smeared face, an aroma of regret, and another friend request to ignore.
Nowadays, I only go out because I love dancing aggressively with my friends. If I get bored at any point, I’ll just go home and kitchen dance. I’ve got absolutely no interest in listening to bullshit chat-up lines, and I’ve definitely not got any interest in anything that stops me from aggressively dancing. And it’s genuinely really hard to snog someone whilst you’re trying to throw shapes to Stevie Nicks…trust me.
Although this does mean that I’m kind of stuck in some sort of Mexican standoff with myself, because I’ve got no interest in dating either. Honestly, the thought of having to re-download tinder makes me want to sew up my vagina. Even when I have dated, all it’s done is make me think more about the guys I’m actually into. In fact, the only date I truly enjoyed wasn’t even a date...it was just food with a friend. But, because I’m still an embarrassing teenage girl, I’m going to call it a date (even if I’m 99.7% sure he only agreed to it so I’d stop bothering him on snapchat).
Plus, I still can’t handle rejection. I’d much rather get stuck in a hot festival toilet, on a Sunday evening, than make a move with a guy I actually like. Sometimes, thanks to alcohol, I’ve been stupid enough to admit that I accidentally caught feelings. But, thanks to alcohol, I’ve been as subtle as an earthquake with a magnitude of 8.5. Needless to say, my drunken confessions didn’t shake their world.
So, due to my recent prudishness and my British awkwardness, it’s looking quite likely that I will become one of those cat ladies your parents worn you about. It’s a future that’s particularly worrying for me; cats terrify me (it’s one of the main reasons I’ll never be internet cool).
Secretly, I’m kind of hoping that it’s all just a weird phase, and that I’ll get myself a good snog soon. I’m already beginning to worry that saying ‘I only kiss my nephew’ is making me even more of a social outcast.
But, if it’s not a phase, there’s always the back of my palm, and my Josh Homme phone background.