kissing someone else.

It’s a curious thought that’s been rummaging around in my brain the past few days. You know, kissing someone who isn’t G. I guess kissing is cheating, and really, I’m not too keen on being that girl again.

But thinking about kissing another person can’t be considered cheating, can it? Especially if you aren’t thinking of one specific person, just the act of kissing in general. And so what if I am thinking of a specific person? You have no proof and I’ll never admit it.

It’s sort of funny about G. He actually tries to convince me on a regular basis that he never thinks about any other girl, ever. ahah ha ha ah ha. Um, okay, G. You’re different than every single man in the world. Sure. Of course.

It isn’t like he’s winning any medals in the truth-telling department. I remember when I was out of town for two weeks once and he naturally used the time to do as many drugs as possible and check out as much porn on the computer as he thought he could hide, even though he knows how I feel about both the drugs and the porn (and a part of me is even more against the porn than the drugs, in a weird way). Um, hello? I’m a computer nerd; I know what to look for and where.

So it took me all of 5 mins the night I got home to see just what he was looking at. Mostly harmless as far as porn goes, but I was extremely disappointed in him, not just because he did it, but also because of WHAT he was looking at. He was looking up such lame, generic crap, things like girls gone wild and Paris Hilton and such. I mean, that’s so ordinary and dull. girls gone wild? snore. Paris Hilton? Come on. At least look at someone who has a soul and a wit of actual personality. I remember thinking “god, not even his porn-viewing is interesting.” Pretty harsh, but true. Just another reminder of how I didn’t want ordinary and tried so hard to avoid it, but ended up with it anyway. I guess it’s too much to want the guy you’re with to be into the same sort of girl you’d be into, if you were so inclined.

When I confronted him about it, he denied it, acted like he didn’t know what I was talking about, ran around in circles to get me to forgive him. It still bothers me now, when I think about it. I want to be with a guy who recognizes something like girls gone wild for what it is and can see past the titillation factor.

I try to tell G that it’s things like this that turn me away from him, that every little sideway glance he throws at another girl lowers my desire for him. He doesn’t get it, doesn’t understand that part of me. I might be too hard on him, because sexually I’m beyond dysfunctional, but that doesn’t change how I feel or the fact that I’m not subtle on this issue.

I know there are loads of girls to be looking at, everywhere you go, and I’m not claiming to be prettier or sexier or better than any of them. But when we’re out in public together, I expect him to be respectful towards me, and that means keeping his wandering eye in check. It is impossible for him to do this however. Whenever I catch him, it always starts some sort of argument, him claiming complete innocence (“I wasn’t staring at her ass/breasts/etc, I just like the way the pocket is stitched, etc”) and me saying something like, “feel free to check out as many girls as you like when we’re not together, I don’t care. But could you do me the courtesy of at least PRETENDING you have respect for me and not do it in my presence, while you’re holding our baby no less, no matter how fricking slick you think you’re being? Please. Maybe for just one minute you can think and behave without consulting your dick? Maybe?” It’s all very immature actually. And I need to get over it already. Just let it go, c. let it go.

But anyone who knows me knows that I’m physically incapable of letting it go. I just can’t do it. This incident I mentioned, with the porn and the drugs? Happened almost a year ago and here I am, still fretting over it. It just bothers me so much. I already have self-image issues. What makes it worse is that none of the women he sexualizes looks like me. None of them. In fact, most of them look exactly the opposite. Someone please tell me then what I am supposed to think when he leans up against me and says “you’re so sexy, let’s get naked?” when the only person in his sexual fantasies who looks like me is me? And probably, in those fantasies, I’m the nag in the corner telling him to hurry up already, spoiling his fun. I would feel a hundred times better if I saw him objectifying one person who resembled me. Just one.

It’s not possible that his tastes run the gamut (wow, two posts in a row where I’ve used the word gamut). So what does this make me think? That I’m just the hole. Very crude, I know, and he absolutely denies it and rightfully gets angry whenever I say something like that. I know I’m not just the hole. I know this. It’s just such a great thing to say to someone when you’re angry at them.

Basically, I need to get some frigging self confidence already. If I felt the way I should about myself, then it wouldn’t bother me when he looks at other women. The porn thing would still bother me, because that goes beyond my self image and hits at the root of very heavy societal concerns; and his choice of women would still annoy me in their extraordinary averageness, but at least I wouldn’t have insanely long posts on loafe about it.

I got sidetracked. What was I saying? Oh yeah, the kissing thing.

It makes me a bit depressed to think that the only person I might ever kiss again is G. I wonder if he feels the same way. He might be hurt to know that I’ve been thinking about it, although he thinks about having sex with other people all the time, so I’m not going to feel too sorry about it.

Kissing a new person was always so much fun. Finding out who the good kisser was and who wasn’t. I loved those moments right before the first kiss, when you’re close, lips not quite touching, breaths warm and sweet, the tension thick and heavy around you like fog, everything blurry and slippery, anticipating, hoping, waiting, forever in that moment, and even as his lips begin to brush yours, you’re still lost in that second, right before you know for sure, either way, “hmm, this is nice” or “hmm, this kind of sucks.” Is it going to be wet and sloppy, or soft and silky? Will he jam his tongue into my mouth or let it in nice and easy? Will he be a gentle explorer in new territory or a brazen land whore staking claim to all he touches?

Sometimes, the best first kisses of all are the surprise kisses, when you’re doing something simple like say putting gas in your car and he grabs you and just kisses you before you even know what’s happening and then he lets go, says goodbye and hops into his truck, and you stand there in a daze, lips a little red and puffy and stinging nicely, thinking “did he just kiss me?”

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