Monday, 26 September 2016

Heavy Breathing

I once went through a period of writing songs about one specific person. Most of my songs are about people - I have an irritating habit of channeling my unrequited affections into word rather than deed - but this one specific person I rarely saw. Every time I did see her, I found her more and more attractive, and although I wrote songs, I didn't think she'd ever hear any of them... although, actually, she did; not that she clocked that they were about her.

She didn't really realise any of it. That the songs were about her or that I was sending her things to try and drop hints. Buying some little stones that referred to her name or painting the name of a song by the band I liked onto a felt heart for her. I stopped short of writing a love letter, but still, I tried to make some sort of intimation. I went so far as to declare that "I have never had a secret admirer" during a game of "I Have Never".

Somebody pointed out that you may not know if you have ever had a secret admirer. She didn't drink either way.

Once, on a holiday weekend, she was a little tipsy and had been going around snogging people. She was looking, although not very hard, for a fourth person to kiss, and I found myself in a room with several other people... and her.

"Who wants to get off with me?" she shouted from her position (lying supine on one of the beds).
"I'll get off with you, if you like," I said, surprised by my sudden boldness.

For all the physical contact that was going on at these things, I never really got a lot of action. Hugs, yes. I was a safe space, a non-threatening boy that was nice to hug, but wasn't going to try anything. I also wasn't very attractive. But, this time, I was actually going to go for it, act out the fantasy of a guilt-free kiss with the girl I'd been obsessed with for years.

After dithering for a while and exchanging a look with another person in the room, I walked as briskly as I could over to where she was lying, bent down...

...and we kissed.

That was it. That was as far as it went. At first, I wasn't even sure she knew it was me (although another game of "I Have Never" clarified that she did, in fact, know it was me), having only once kissed a drunk person before and that was my girlfriend. Nevertheless, it was a really nice kiss. I just wished, at the time, that it had lasted longer.

And I scuttled out of the room.

It was unreal. I'd never kissed anyone I fancied completely randomly, and suddenly I had. It may seem like something small, but to me, it was a big deal. I felt wanton and sullen, and it took a dance to the whole of Build Me Up Buttercup to bring me out of my rĂªverie. Whether or not I saw her again (I did) or it went any further (it didn't), at least I had this one memory, a light in the darkness, just to remind me of what happens if you take a chance.

As you can probably tell, this meant more to me than it did to her at the time. And I doubt she even remembers it... but I certainly do. I did write a song about it, you see...

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