There’s a look. That spellbinding look. You can catch it in someone else if you’re paying attention. I never got that look before. It’s almost involuntary, like the click of a combination lock when the dial slips into the right place; all conditions aligned. I think I’ve seen it on TV once, but that was fake. Done for the sake of story resolution. On TV, that’s when it usually comes: at the end.
I think I gave it a few times. Not out of that groundbreaking sincerity. At least not during any occasion I’m remembering. Nothing that deep. No, more like an involuntary response to the lovely distortion of reality that comes from a really good make out.
Making out is the best! It seems almost insignificant, doesn’t it? So innocent. But for me, making out is the single greatest expression of person-to-person intimacy. Sex tends to overshadow that. Maybe because the mystery and taboo is more obvious in sex. But when people lose themselves in it, there’s a great intensity when you’re making out. It may sound weird that I hold it in such high regard. But, it’s a mistake to reduce it to pure physical simplicity. There’s an opportunity to achieve even a slight sense of power, like someone guiding another, though it may eventually settle somewhere as mutual push and pull. Building that euphoria. You can be fully clothed and everything else, but with a really good kisser, it can be just as sensuous as the more physical exerting act of sex.
It’s been a long time since I’ve ever had that intense of a make out. I couldn’t get it out of my head for days…