You’ve been working your game all night, leaning in just enough to show off the magic that is your Victoria’s Secret Deep Plunge push-up bra. Your hair is perfect, your makeup is flawless and you’ve done your signature laugh-and-touch-his-arm move every time he’s said something cute and funny.
Now you’re just waiting for him to lean in and kiss those perfectly glossed lips.
You like this boy; every last thing about him. He’s got the same major as you, you have mutual friends, he wears really great jeans and he even watches The Hills. Could there be anyone more perfect!? You’ve been dreaming about kissing him since the moment you met him and now you’re so almost there. He’s ditched his friends to talk to you in the corner of the party for the last half hour, so you’re pretty much sure this makeout sesh is in the bag.
After screaming into each other’s ears over the “Put It In The Bag” blaring from the speakers, he asks you if you want to go outside to get some air. The butterflies in your stomach start jumping around in excitement. Coyly, you agree to go.
He takes your hand (swoon!) and leads you outside. Your knees are trembling, but you pull yourself together and follow him through the crowd. Once outside, you begin to shiver. Not because it’s cold, but because you just know he’s going to kiss you and you’re at once nervous and excited.
You chat about the weather, about the three guys that are peeing on the back fence and the homeless man rifling through the grass looking for empty cans. He puts his hand on your arm. “THIS IS IT,” you think to yourself. “OH MY GOD, HE’S FINALLY GOING TO KISS ME!” Your stomach knots up.
You keep talking about nothing and somewhere between the “Ugh I have to get up early tomorrow to study” and the “where’d your friends go?” he leans in and kisses you.
You’re swooning. You’re so excited you don’t even care that the people huddled around the keg are whistling and yelling at you to get a room. Your perfect boy – the one you have been chasing for months – is kissing you and it’s….OMG, it’s awful.
Is that…his tongue…on your chin?
Is he licking your face?
What is this tornado motion he’s got going on in your mouth? Is he trying to give you some sort of tonsil exam?
And, oh my god, why is your entire cheek wet? What is going on here?!
You open your eyes – maybe he’s just effing around, trying to be funny – but his eyes are closed and he’s totally into it.
You pull back, make some joke about the show you’re putting on for the party guests and contemplate a way to slyly wipe the boy’s drool from your face. He whispers in your ear that he doesn’t care who’s watching, then licks. your. earlobe.
He leans in again to kiss you and as he’s assaulting you with his tongue, you’re mind is reeling.
“What am I supposed to do?”
“Is this fixable?”
“How is he so cute and perfect, yet so god awful at this?”
Unable to take anymore (seriously, there is slobber dripping into your cleavage), you pull away. You make some excuse about having to go find your friends, that you’ll be back, that you’ll talk to him in a bit and you run away. You need guidance, you need support….you need to find a Q-Tip to get this kid’s drool out of your ear.
Yeah, we’ve all been there.
How so many guys could reach college and still think those moves are OK is beyond us.