Dear Date (Pt. 2)


Dear Date,
Hi again. Let me start off by saying, I had a great time last night. It was nice to just get together and talk with someone… cuz, ya know, I just don’t do enough talking or whatever. Yeah, nobody believed that. I pretty much never shut up.
Lemme start over.
Hi, I had a lotta fun last night. But this is about the end of the evening… as is customary, the first date ended with a kiss, but I wanted to defend myself there. See, I swear I’m a better kisser than that.
I wasn’t sure if we were doing, like, a full-on kiss, if there was gonna be tongue or how long it was gonna be or anything like that.
Plus, the bouncer from the strip club across the street wasn’t helping matters… anyways, I just wanted to say, if I could get a do-over? Yeah, that’d be great.
I mean, I know we’re already going to a movie on Saturday so hopefully I didn’t fuck up that badly, but I just kinda wanted to defend my honor or whatever. I mean, I am a good kisser. Everybody says so.
Okay, not “everybody.” I mean, I’m not some sort of kissing slut or something.
Ya know what? I really don’t see myself winning this one, so I’ll leave it with “see you Saturday.”
Until then…

Dear Stranger I Made Out With That I Only Vaguely Remember

Dear Stranger I Made Out With That I Only Vaguely Remember,
Hi… um… I don’t usually do this but, well, who are you again?
I know, I know, I know, we’ve met before so you’re technically not a stranger, but I’m also pretty sure we don’t know each other well enough to have each other’s tongues down on our throats. It’s weird how it works out like that?
I mean, I don’t wanna be rude or anything, but I should probably clarify everything that went down that day. See, when you’re as self conscious as me, pool parties are not your friend. They make me unnecessarily nervous and over-the-top paranoid about my weird body image issues. Add five parts alcohol and these insecurities are intensified.
Now, take into account that somebody (no offense, but it could have been anybody) was expressing interest and you’ve got yourself all the ingredients for a drunken, sloppy, make-out session on somebody else’s couch.
So to clarify, I’m sure it wasn’t your fault and I’m sure, at the time, I had a good time but, well, in the harsh light of day, it was kinda embarrassingly inevitably. Nothing personal but, yeah… if we could never mention this again? That’d be great.