Kissing Booth

The Kiss-ish

I told my mom to pick me up later at the ice cream parlor, I had gotten a ride there with Jon and his parents, his parents were sweet, sometimes I wish they were my parents, then I remember how awkward it would be to have a brother as hot as Jon, so I make do with what I have and sadly don’t make do with Jon, or anyone for that matter, not that I need to.

I find that our cultures need for having your first kiss and losing your virginity by whatever age to avoid stigma is plain stupid. It has 14 year old kids trying to get laid so that they can brag to their friends and so they can feel like they belong to a society where sexual activity is encouraged. Disgusting.

Now that that rant is out of the way, back to the awkward car ride with Jon. I looked forward to see Jon checking himself out in the passenger side mirror, this was something he did often, “You did well in there.” He said half smiling, for some reason I found this pathetic attempt at a pity compliment attractive. It was something he did often around girls, whenever he felt awkward, or had nothing to say, he always found something to compliment. I adored this positive talent for praising the obvious, somehow he just did it right, but mostly he did it often.

I said thanks and mumbled you did well too as I obviously continued to check out him checking himself out. The same routine, turn left, slight head tilt, pout, turn facing the mirror, a slight squint he saw in a magazine that he thought made people look better. Then a funny face and then save it with a “sexy” partial smile, then a right head turn to his “good side” (like people actually have those) then fixes his hair as our eyes meet in the mirror, me giggling softly. He slams his head to the back of his seat and flips the mirror back, I laugh taking pleasure in his embarrassment. I secretly love awkward situations, at least when I create them.

I decide to break the awkward silence by texting Jon, “don’t worry, you’re still #stillcutethough” I get back “#stillcutetho*”… “#stillsmarttho” I reply with nothing other than “#yolo, #Fthegrammar #Fthepolice” We share another glance and smile and continue in a less awkward silence before we pull up to the ice cream place, most everyone else is already there due to Jon’s dad’s nervous driving.

We went in, he ordered a huge chocolate Sunday, and myself, still thinking of what dad had said got a small cone. We sat down with our other dance “friends” some of them were okay I guess. They were all beautiful, they were all cyborgs, built and modeled by their controlling parents, completely oblivious to their lack of freedom. After studying these strange beings, I have learned many things, they are fueled by gossip, that you should never break up with one of them, that they do everything in unison, including bathroom use, that one does not wear anything out of style (is saying “in style” in style anymore) near them unless ready for torment, and to not feed them after midnight. (will power shuts off around that time.)

So we sat, being the two as close to normal people at the table, even though normality is something impossible to define. I mean yeah you can say “he’s a normal guy," and on the surface he very well may be, but other than that he most likely has many things that make him abnormal. You take one person who is completely normal when compared to his/her circle of friends, put in a different setting can seem completely outrageous. Normality is a sanction of the peers, and it is something that is completely changing and evolving. Becoming a mass produced concept to sell to people who believe they are following these “new trends” to express their individuality, when really they are no better than the cyborgs. They expect to be different, expect to be their individual selves, when becoming what media persuades them to be, these mass produced consumer drones. Manufactured for their loyalty to a brand who couldn’t care less about them. Disgusting.

Anyway, after finishing my cone and fake laughing with the cyborgs about their boring shopping story, I get up and motion for Jon to come with me. He picks up his Sunday and followed me to the two person window seat where we talked and I regrettably ate most of what was left to his Sunday. We laughed at how weird the borgs were and knew they could probably hear us, but to be fair they’ve made fun of us more than once.

Eventually we were the only ones left and we finally found something else to talk about, the kissing booth, (great) like it wasn’t bad enough that I couldn’t trade out or tell about it. Though I don’t think it would matter if I told Jon, he doesn’t have too many friends to tell, and the rumors are that people other than me are kissers. Anyway, so not very many would believe him. We talked for a while, him asking me if I’ve ever been a kisser and if I’ve ever actually paid to kiss one of them. I of course say no, “It seems to me like a very mild form of prostitution.” Jon laughs, but I was being serious. “well sometimes its good practice for those who desperately need it, I know I did” I forgot Jon was a kisser, mainly because he thought he was too terrible a kisser to get any money, and when word got out that booth 3 was bad, he was right. “Yeah, but did the practice really do anything? It’s not like people wrote you tips” I say, he looks at me, smiles,  leans forward gently placing his hand on my cheek, pushing the hair behind my ear. “Only one way to find out.”

I look into his dazzling solid blue eyes, then at his lips, then I glance to the right, to which I see my mom out of the corner of my eye, smiling her big toothy white smile… mood killed. I laugh, resting my head on his shoulder. “What?” He says halfheartedly as I just point toward the direction of my mom’s car. He gives her a wave and we get off of our window seat stools, slowly making our way to the exit. We walk to the car, trying desperately not to hold hands.