You told me that the first girl you ever had a crush on had the same name as mine. You wooed me for about three weeks straight. Told me your favourite movies, your favourite music, your favourite places. But you talk about your ex too much. And you weren’t as good a kisser as I thought you’d be. I imagined stars and weak knees and that wasn’t what I got. You had the same name as my first crush too. But I never told you that.
Number two, three, four and five
I wish I could picture your faces, I wish I knew your names.
You only lived 10 minutes from my house. I met you in a club and we talked. You were cool. But the music was too loud and the lights were too bright and we couldn’t talk forever. I wish we’d kept talking.
You were the only person I’ve ever kissed that meant something to me. You truly meant something to me. You broke down my walls and I let you in and you knew me better than anyone has ever known me. I thought I knew you too. When you kissed me I felt something I’d never felt before and I just wanted to be in that moment forever. I wish I could be in that moment forever. I still wish I could be in that moment forever. Being with you felt like home and I thought we’d be forever. I thought you were forever. But I didn’t know you. I wasn’t even close to knowing you. I wish I could know you. I’ve put my walls back up.
You were twice my age and not at all attractive and you were the worst kiss I’ve ever had. I only went there because I needed to get over him.
I only talked to you because I’d lost my friends. You were younger than me and not my type but beer goggles lead me to think you were. The next morning, when my friends asked where I’d been, I lied and said I couldn’t remember what your name was or what you looked like.
I kissed you because I wanted to kiss someone. You were 10 years my senior and I didn’t find you at all attractive but when you gave me your number and asked me to dinner I couldn’t find it in me to say no, so I just never called.
You told me you were Greek. You said you’d cook me Greek food and show me lots of Greek things. You weren’t even Greek. But you were a good kisser. And you looked so good. And it must have been the alcohol going to my head when I invited you back to my apartment when I knew nothing was going to happen. You didn’t drink. You were completely, stone cold, sober. And you still thought I was pretty. I liked that. That has stuck with me.
I met you at 11pm. My friends and I were lost. You and yours weren’t. We got along. You said you would show us around and take us to a few bars and that was fun. Your friend wanted to kiss me. But I wanted to kiss you. You were just my type. You were smart, you were funny, you were cute. But your glasses were my favourite part. The second date however, was my least favourite part. I wish I’d kissed your friend.
You had the biggest arms I’ve ever seen and that’s what made me like you. You were strong and Brazilian and I would kiss you again if I had the choice.
I kissed you because my friend was kissing someone and I had nothing else to do. It was gross and I’d rather not think about it ever again. I’ve tried to erase it from my memory but I can’t. The thought of your hands and your mouth and your body make me feel ill.
I didn’t want to kiss someone that night. I was upset. I missed him. I was hurt. I spent the night crying in the corner. You were at the bar. You said hello. You were in the navy. You had the same accent as his. You reminded me of him. We spent the night together. I showed you around. But every time we kissed, I tasted him. He was on my mind. And I’m sorry for that.
I was drunk when I met you. More drunk than I’ve ever been. But you kept kissing me over and over again and I liked it. But the next time I saw you the feeling had worn off. And no matter how nice you are or how smart you are, you can’t make up for how boring you are.
You looked a lot older than you were and that blew me away. I kissed you in the street while my friend stood next to us and I got my lipstick all over your face and mine. You bought me a rose so I’d kiss you again and that was cute but it takes a lot more than a rose to win me over. (But the rose teamed with your amazing eyes almost did it for me)
You were completely my type. You had glasses. You had curly hair. You spoke languages. You were smart. You were funny. You were everything I wanted and you made me forget about him, but I couldn’t let myself like you. And I don’t know if I can. But I wish I could. I wish more than anything I could. And I’m sorry if I can’t. I’m so so sorry.