I was totally into my first boyfriend. Like, so into him I almost liked him as much as I like binge-watching TV while eating chocolate. Yeah, I may have been in love with him. How could I not be? He introduced me to the world of making out on couches, dry humping, and comic books, so basically he had it all. On one occasion, we were making out on the couch (it was a typical Tuesday night), and we switched so I was on top. All our clothes were on, or most of them were, or at least my underwear, and my brain was practically exploding. My tongue moved around his mouth like it was working overtime and my awkward, lumpy body humped like a dog with a new stuffed animal. It was not pretty a sight. Thank god it was too dark to clearly see anything.
I resurfaced to take a breath when the worst thing that could happen to a girl happened: I drooled on him. I could feel the string of spit leaving my mouth as if in slow-motion and a rush of thoughts went through my mind that essentially can be added up to: NooooooooooooI’mdisgustingNoooooooooooo! It only took the one second my mouth was open for a breath of air for my drool to shoot out like that dinosaur that ate Newman in Jurassic Park. Ugh, I was exactly like my dog when he wakes me up in the morning. Or I guess exactly like my dog when he dry humps.
Before I could will my drool to suck back up into my mouth like an alien invasion, my boyfriend jumped. “What was that?” It was too dark for him to see, which meant I had a plethora of lies to choose from to make me appear more ladylike. Although the more I thought about it, I really could only pick between “There’s a leak in the ceiling” or “It was my sweat”, which really wasn’t ladylike at all. In the end, I just kind of froze until he figured out what happened. Finally, he said, “Don’t worry, I would’ve done the same thing” which is a really sweet thing to say. Clearly he was a good liar since we broke up two weeks later; I don’t blame him. That was fucking disgusting.