I Fucked Up.

I fucked up big time. 
I’m a bisexual woman who is very flirtatious by nature.  I’m a polyamorous woman who understands and appreciates ethical monogamy as a valid and rich relationship model.  Unfortunately, I’m also a heavy drinker on Saturday nights, and I sometimes don’t make the best judgments.
I don’t flirt with my girl friends’ girlfriends.  I don’t flirt with my female friends’ husbands or boyfriends.  But I most certainly – and often – flirt with my male friends’ girlfriends.  Most of my guy friends take this with a grain of salt; they laugh, or they think it’s hot, or they wish it were more than flirting. 
Or maybe they don’t.  Maybe it annoys the fuck out of them, but there’s a societal pressure on men to say they want to see two women entwined.  Maybe they’re seething inside their heads.
Last Saturday night, I was behind the bar – the bar I call my second home – with said bar owner’s girlfriend.  This guy is a good friend and one of the most genuinely generous and compassionate people I have ever known.  I made out with his girlfriend in front of the whole bar, thinking it was no big deal.  She enthusiastically participated, and we were just being drunk and silly.  Or so I thought.
When I walked out from behind the bar, I was immediately yanked aside by a mutual friend, who looked me in the eye and said, “Not cool.”  I didn’t understand… until I looked backward and saw my friend looking at me with hurt eyes.  He called me back, and took me into the kitchen.
“Why would you do that to me?” He asked.  I have never felt so ashamed in my life.  He said that people were coming up to him asking him why his girlfriend was kissing someone else, and he didn’t know what to tell them.  Because I was drunk, I burst into tears and started profusely apologizing… I told him I loved him.  That I would never intentionally hurt him.  That he’s one of the best people I’ve ever known.  That I didn’t know what to say, either, except I’m so sorry.  I didn’t give excuses or reasons, because there weren’t any. 
I’m sorry.
I’m sorry isn’t enough when you hurt a friend. 
I know there’s nothing I can do to make it better except let the natural balm of time run its course… but.  Nothing except time and a little more fucking awareness of people’s feelings.

First Kisses

*The awkward one:  You really like him, but you don’t know quite how to go about telling him, and you really want to kiss him, and you’re waiting for the right moment, but it never comes, so you just end up in this weird place where you feel like it’s probably the best moment you’re going to get, but then you feel like you should say something just to let him know it’s coming, and you blurt out, “I like you,” or “I’d like to kiss you,” or (in my case), “I think you’re really attractive” before going in.  The kiss is good, but it would have been better if you’d have kept your trap shut. 

*The one with the super hot girl in the club who looks like a great kisser because she’s so hot, but then ends up being an absolutely awful kisser: Self-explanatory.

*The one that wasn’t: You try to kiss someone you’re really into, but he backs away, and you wish you could crawl into a hole or a tauntaun. 

*The face rape: When someone attacks your face with his / her mouth, and you think, “HOLYSHITWHYAMIKISSINGADEMENTOR?!?!?!?!?!”

*The one with the teasing: She puts her lips just an inch from yours, and just stays there for a moment, breathing, then lightly grazes your lips with her lips and slides her hands into your hair, and it’s like you can feel her lips everywhere on your body, and then she really kisses you with firm (but gentle) pressure and lets her lips linger there.  And you tremble. 

*The one with all the biting: Seriously, what’s with all the biting?  I mean, do it once, and it’s hot.  Do it all the time and it’s just annoying.  You’re not a vampire, not matter how many young adult novels you read. 

*The one with WAY too much tongue: Just. Ugh. Tongue is like salt — some people (myself included) think that it’s delicious, but should be used in moderation; too much salt totally ruins a dish.  Then there are people who pour that shit all over everything, and they’re going to get heart disease.

*All the ones you don’t remember because honestly, they’re just not that memorable.

*The one with the person you’ve wanted to kiss for a year:  You’ve held back for a million reasons, but one day you’re alone and you’ve finally allowed yourself to touch him, and you’re sitting there in the dark, in his bed, just caressing his arm, and you don’t even stop to think.  Your body takes control, and suddenly his face is in your hands and your mouth is so hungry for his that you don’t care that you’re supposed to be a lesbian or that this could potentially ruin your friendship.  All that matters is that your heart is beating a mile a minute and your knickers are so wet you could wring them out and you can barely breathe and you just want to breathe into him and you just do it, and he kisses you back with just as much need and passion and everything feels right.  That’s the one you remember.

I wish I could get The Oatmeal to draw this post.  I wanted to do this as a comic, but everything I draw looks like someone gave an eighteen month-old a crayon and a piece of paper and said, “Go to town, kid!”