I kissed a boy
I went to see my friend’s new baby on Friday. Afterwards, I stayed for the bbq/party she was having. Until Friday, I hadn’t kissed a boy since the single dad back in December. I honestly wasn’t even looking for a boy to kiss, but somehow the opportunity presented itself in a 21-year-old stud with an eye for yours truly.
What is it about a guy opening a beer with his belt buckle?
God I’m white trash. Maybe its just a Colorado thing. Maybe I’m just that easy after living with man-drought.
The kissing eventually turned into me laughing at the fact that I, the 27-year-old single mom was being hit on by a 21-year-old kid, which led to me offending him, which eventually led to my friend telling me “not to be mean,” which led to him asking me why “I didn’t want to be happy,” which led to my single parent pride getting hurt, and me having a minor hormonal breakdown.
I kept trying to explain to him, “look dude..”
To which he replied, “Can you NOT call me dude?”
I just wanted to hang out with my girlfriends and have girl talk. I definitely wasn’t prepared for confrontation by a barely legal Cowboy who wanted to prove he was WAY MORE mature than most 21-year olds.
Forgetting that we live in rural Colorado, I managed to piss off the neighbors by bumping super-gay radio through the house. I was shaking my booty when a guy who looked like the Uni-bomber’s evil twin busted open the door and screamed “I have my EARPLUGS out and I can still hear that shit!”
Poor aging hippie.
I also thought that bringing up the gun-control debate was a good idea while drinking with rednecks. Hell, I’m surprised I didn’t go into full-blown, new-age, hippie priestess ranting.
Either way, I had fun. I danced. I kissed a boy. I saw an adorable baby. I reconnected with my friends who I’ve neglected horribly. Perhaps I may even have a date in the future.