Monday, June 27, 2005
Kissing Boys in the Park
I'm enjoying my summer, and I won't lie and say I don't like feeling a bit decadent. Drinks, sun, coffee, naps, down-tempo beats, big breakfasts, more drinks -- all of these things are deliciously decadent to me. I currently lounging in my office chair still smiling from the utter nothingness I did yesterday. I awoke in NYC, went to my friends place, took another nap, then met up with a bigger group for brunch and $9 unlimited mimosas. Decadent. Even the 90 degree sun on our walk to the Chinatown bus outside felt delicious. Then I came back to DC, had more drinks, more lounging, more music.
But all those substances and inactivity aside, I've discovered by new absolute favorite indulgence: Kissing boys in the park.
Lets rewind a few days. On Friday, without much warning to the office, I up and left at 11:00am. I was done for the week. I then went to the gym for my rescheduled personal training session (see Gym False Starts for the sad buildup). Walter (who I was expecting to be Asian for some reason -- like Dennis or Henry) ran me into the ground. And there wasn't a single episode with a heavy weight or too many reps. No, we were doing full-body "core" workouts. Like balancing on jelly blocks, holding free weights, and doing squats and bicep curls, all simultaneously. If I had been graceful, it might have been nice to watch. I was not. And while the workout itself was a living Hades, the muscle ache afterwards was kinda nice.
Then my roommate and I caught a bus to NYC for various friend- and Pride-related activities. I had a date planned with Five, a boy from online from long ago who I had just started talking to again. As weird as going to a date in another city with a boy was, talking to someone on IM seemed even stranger, like I was 19 again, so I was happy for the face time.
We walked to Union Square, grabbing smoothies on the way. We circled it once then settled on a brick wall around the perimeter. After some time we had fallen over and were laying in the grass watching people pass, listening to the city, staring at the sky. And then with me on my back and him laying perpendicular to me on his stomach and up on his elbows, he leaned in and kissed me. [I realize the use of the word perpendicular negates the romantic sounding nature of this story, but I felt you needed the visual.]
What fun! Kissing boys in the park! There were several opposite-sex couples laying in our vicinity, in various stages of amour, and we were the least scandalous of the bunch. But just lips touching alone, of boys, seemed like such exhilarating scandal to me! I guess I feel like it just doesn't happen enough, or it doesn't happen to me enough (screw the privacy of my own home), but it was so wonderful and sensual and DECADENT.
I think I've found my drug of the summer.
But all those substances and inactivity aside, I've discovered by new absolute favorite indulgence: Kissing boys in the park.
Lets rewind a few days. On Friday, without much warning to the office, I up and left at 11:00am. I was done for the week. I then went to the gym for my rescheduled personal training session (see Gym False Starts for the sad buildup). Walter (who I was expecting to be Asian for some reason -- like Dennis or Henry) ran me into the ground. And there wasn't a single episode with a heavy weight or too many reps. No, we were doing full-body "core" workouts. Like balancing on jelly blocks, holding free weights, and doing squats and bicep curls, all simultaneously. If I had been graceful, it might have been nice to watch. I was not. And while the workout itself was a living Hades, the muscle ache afterwards was kinda nice.
Then my roommate and I caught a bus to NYC for various friend- and Pride-related activities. I had a date planned with Five, a boy from online from long ago who I had just started talking to again. As weird as going to a date in another city with a boy was, talking to someone on IM seemed even stranger, like I was 19 again, so I was happy for the face time.
We walked to Union Square, grabbing smoothies on the way. We circled it once then settled on a brick wall around the perimeter. After some time we had fallen over and were laying in the grass watching people pass, listening to the city, staring at the sky. And then with me on my back and him laying perpendicular to me on his stomach and up on his elbows, he leaned in and kissed me. [I realize the use of the word perpendicular negates the romantic sounding nature of this story, but I felt you needed the visual.]
What fun! Kissing boys in the park! There were several opposite-sex couples laying in our vicinity, in various stages of amour, and we were the least scandalous of the bunch. But just lips touching alone, of boys, seemed like such exhilarating scandal to me! I guess I feel like it just doesn't happen enough, or it doesn't happen to me enough (screw the privacy of my own home), but it was so wonderful and sensual and DECADENT.
I think I've found my drug of the summer.
