Kissing

Monday night there was rain falling on the homes and heads of hundreds of thousands of Southern California residents. What bliss so many of us found that dared to venture in our cars in search of adventure! My own beacon of light guided me with my best-friend to have drinks at Ocean 33 in Mission Viejo. A lovely old-Chicago styled sort of bar complete with a murals of artists and working class people. Of course in our conversations the talk of love, fate, crushes, and lust would fall over the calamari and spinach dip but, that wasn't as important as the fact that the bar closed at 9:00PM and we were in need of a new watering hole.



Suffice it to say, that we took through the rain and made it to the bar where I indeed have my secret little crush on a certain bartender. I wasn't lying to you when I said that his black hair and blue eyes had me enchanted in a few posts back. However, the wisest girls know better than to ever allow a crush to be more than that. Let me explain, to save a bit of heart ache, don't fall for a guy until you have real ground on which to land. Unlike most wise brunettes, I took a different path once I was served my second martini made by his truly. Bliss indeed! Rain and martinis, eye-candy and pink high-heels (which I actually broke on my quick jaunt to the restroom but I borrowed a stapler from a waitress and all was good)! My best-friend, indeed, my girl to the end, ran to my aid like a beach volleyball player setting up a spike at the net. In a few swift moves, my naughty friend played like Cupid and made the suggestion that the bartender drive me home. This didn't actually happen but it got his wheels turning and so he asked me if I'd like to have drinks with him after work. What girl would say no?



Exactly thirty minutes later and one beer too many, my heart-throb was sitting with me at some completely random dive bar. I couldn't have been in a better state of heaven. Though, the female bartender played the raunchy daisy duke girl part too well, perhaps attempting to shock "somebody like me" who didn't fit the bar stereotype of late twenties to god knows how old biker types with beards and bandanas. Yes, my little crush is a bad boy. The only time I've ever had a psychic tell me my fortunes was at the museum of Contemporary Art in Chicago for a summer solstice bash (a 24 hour drunken mad house of art, installations, loud music, carnival-like events and of course dancing-its no wonder they stopped putting it on). The woman whose name I want to say was Mystic Rose or Cloud read me a few cards and then looked up at me.

"Bad boys are not good for you, stay away." the psychic looked at me as if she had just wasted her breath, "Okay, your reading is done."

That was it. I can't seem to be able to stay away from bad boys. Despite how much this psychic's words linger at the back of my head, I can't stop being attracted to them. Bad boys are just a class of extremely sexy men and woe is my heart for it! So, back to being bayside at some biker alley of a bar, my bartender kept talking with me and I decided it was time for a game out front which was perfect timing because last call had just been yelled at the few remaining Monday night drinkers.

The night rain wasn't allowing for us to stand anywhere but under the canopy of an architectural firm. Since this post is about kissing and not about how to get the kiss, without putting my cards on the table, I used a wee-bit of my own physic thinking in order to get to that moment in which time slows down and the guy leans in for the kiss.

There we were kissing at almost 2:30am. At a certain moment, we were standing in the rain and I just knew some MTV music director would cut the scene by means of its sheer cliche worthy style. Kissing and style is truly what this brunette has wanting to get at in this post. I'm a firm believer that the first kiss tells everything about two potential lovers. If the kissing is off, then most likely you and the guy will never make to a third date let alone any sort of red-carpeted aisle with rose petals and rice. Kissing has to be fiercely passionate and within the parameters of a kisser's idea of heavenly kissing.

My bartender kisses like an Italian. When I was on the island of Capri, Italy, I had the sexiest and best dressed owner of two villas kiss me under a grove of lemon trees. I truly had the most romantic night of my life with him. He even proposed marriage to me but I had to decline based on how he kissed me. He took his tongue and filled my mouth with it. I couldn't do anything but wait for him to take it out. Didn't like it.....Can anyone see the wheels of this brunette's mind whirling? Hmm...The bartender and I stood kissing outside the biker bar/architect's office for about thirty minutes. I guess I didn't hate it...Although, he did kiss me twice or maybe three times in that whole Italian-mannered "push his entire tongue into my mouth" sort of way. I started to get scitterish.



The rain continued to fall softly on my wind shield as I drove home. I noticed that he followed me a few streets until I turned onto the freeway. What drives us all is to connect and kiss like the gods of Greece. Kissing has to be one of the best human inventions. Yet, it has to be the right mouth.

Maybe it was the beer, maybe it was the romance of kissing under the rain, maybe I'll never kiss him again, however life may unfold, it's important to kiss your lips up and ready for the next one.