special dark

The fifth time my kitten walked across my laptop, (which is ironically actually on my lap), she stopped, standing on the keyboard. She pressed her tiny paw upon the button that adjusts the brightness of my screen, and almost instantly it went black. I tossed her off and readjusted it, mumbling curses at her, as she continued to mew loudly and back her ass up towards my hand. She’s in heat, and a royal pain in my ass. (Before anyone says something, we are getting them fixed, we just don’t have the money to yet.)

I popped another Hershey’s Special Dark Kiss into my mouth. Dark Chocolate supposedly has antioxidants in it, much like tea, cranberries, and pomegranate juice. I don’t know what an antioxidant is, but it’s supposed to be good for you. And so I pop another special dark. I don’t think, when they told us that dark chocolate was good for you, that they anticipated the women who would consume half a bag in one sitting the day before her period began.

Oh wait. Look at this. A warning on the package. “Dark Chocolate contains antioxidants (insert a blahblahblah here) but still is high in fat and calories. One serving is 9 pieces which contains 230 calories and 13 grams of fat.” Perhaps they did anticipate.

Just two weeks ago, when my younger sister was having cramps that were doubling her over in pain, I bragged that I haven’t had cramps since before I was her age. As I feel the slight twinge of something in the left side of my lower abdomen, I begin to wonder if I’ve spoken too soon. Then again, I suppose it could be gas.

But speaking of kisses.

There is someone new, who is not entirely new. We dated (very) briefly back in high school–back when I was the age my youngest sister is now. We broke up because of a misunderstanding, the nature of which neither of us can actually remember at this point, and which we never bothered to correct at the time because we both already had our eyes on others. We remained friends, but drifted apart after high school, as so many do. I found him again via the wonders of the internet, and marvellous coincidence, and we began chatting again. And finally we got together again.

And oh his kiss… I was telling Timmy yesterday that for me, a kiss carries more emotional weight than sex/sexual activity. I can’t kiss someone that I don’t have a connection with.

His kiss tastes like falling in love.

I don’t mean that to say I’m falling in love with him; I’m not. Although I won’t deny that I almost wish I would, for the simple fact of wanting to have someone to cry myself to sleep over. Is that twisted or what? I’m an eternal masochist, I swear it. Rather feel pain than nothing at all, y’know.

But his kiss tastes like falling in love. That’s the best I know how to explain it. I honestly can’t remember enjoying kissing anyone so much since Jim. You can tell, in the kiss, if something’s right or not. By the end, with Jim, the kiss got wronger. Eric’s kiss was just slightly off, but again got more off towards the end. Johnny’s kiss was never quite right. And other boys… I can tell, in their kiss, if they’re going to call me again. The kisses weren’t bad. But they were always just a little off. Slightly rougher than I’d like (hard to believe for me, neh?)… too much tongue… too much teeth… dry lips… disinterest… or simply just not clicking–not being in sync. But you can tell. You can always tell.

But his kiss tastes like falling in love.

How do you describe your most perfect kiss?