Weeks ago, I read WonkoDSane’s writeup, I bit her nose. Having had a similar experience in my youth, I sent him a detailed message about it, and considered noding my experience. He convinced me that if I added my w/u, the node might smack of GTKYness, and I abandoned the idea. A rough draft sat in my scratchpad for a while, though, and I received notes from other noders suggesting I stumbit it. I have decided the proper place for my story is a daylog…

I am writing this assuming Wonko’s story is a true one. If it was fiction, please be kind and pretend that this one is, too.

I was fifteen, away at camp. It was a Saturday, and I had been hanging out all afternoon with this guy. He was dark-haired and – eyed and about my height and smart and funny—it saddens me now, twenty years later, to realize I don’t remember his name, but I certainly remember the feelings of that afternoon. . .

We had been talking and flirting for hours, the way fifteen year olds will. We had reached the point in our interaction where you suddenly become hyperaware of your body and his mouth and the distance between the two of you; every move, every swallow, becomes a conscious act. You know, that I am sorry but when you were talking I was admiring the shape of your lips and evaluating their kissability feeling. Yeah, that.

We were sitting in the sun, on the dormitory steps. He was idly bouncing a tennis ball up and down. At one point, he tossed it to me.

The same short-circuiting happened in my brain that had happened in Wonko’s. Something misfired. I can't explain it now; god knows, I couldn't explain it then.   I kissed the damn tennis ball.


Ever want the earth to just open up and engulf you?