We Can Do Anything You Want, Except That
Getting Our Story Straight: Analyzing the Evidence
You may have noticed a picture of myself on a couch leaning intently toward a blond young lady, with my lips puckered, or as my godmother would say, “Tryin’ to git on her,” if I had a godmother. (I might have a fairy godmother – there are signs – but that is a post for another day). Let me explain the picture. I don’t want you to get the wrong impression. I was totally trying to get into her pants. But respectfully. And actually that picture is not the real thing. Here’s the situation, please calm down:
I met a young woman, she was very attractive and I happen to like very attractive women. Consequently, I asked her out. She accepted. So far, so good. She lived in a city called Hollywood, in California, on the continent of North America. (I know some of you are reading this on the Internet in Mongolia. Hi, Baatar!) The young woman, we’ll call her Ophelia, agreed to have a drink with me on a hilltop restaurant overlooking the entire city of Los Angeles. We had tea, and a grand ol' time. I was charming, funny, ebullient (look it up, come on). The setting was romantic and the vibe positive. Since things were going well, I suggested we take a little walk to the restaurant’s veranda after drinks. She thought that was a wonderful idea.
The veranda is sort of an inspiration point. It is somewhat secluded, covered by tall trees and landscaped shrubs. The entrance to the restaurant is above it, as are the arriving cars and valets who tend to them. Below the veranda is Los Angeles. At night, the skyline is quite impressive. It’s sort of an unwritten law that you have to make out on this veranda. Otherwise the veranda is going to waste. You might as well be at McDonald’s. As we stood side by side, admiring the city, Ophelia mentioned she was cold. That was my cue. I gave her a chivalrous hug to warm up, which she gladly accepted. Then my right hand somehow made its way to her right buttocks. The moment I touched her there she asked, “Carlos, may I communicate something to you?”
Steps That When Followed Will Ultimately Lead to a Super Weird Snake Dance
I told her, yes, she may communicate something, hoping she had recently won the lottery. She hadn’t. Instead she informed me her heart had recently been broken. She was not emotionally available. My hand was still on her ass. I asked if I should move it. She told me it was fine to keep it there; she just wanted me to be aware of where she was, emotionally. I thanked her for telling me and put my other hand on her other butt cheek. She was okay with that, even with her broken heart. Since things were proceeding nicely, I went in for the kiss.
Ophelia immediately backed away, telling me, “I’m not ready for that. Sorry. It’s too intimate. We can do anything you want, except that.” This was curious. “Anything you want” covered a lot of ground. I was tempted to find out exactly what she meant, but in the end realized I would have felt self-conscious engaging in page 34 of the Kama Sutra while valets were on the job just above me. Instead of page 34, we started heavy petting and caressing and touching (tastefully, sort of), but no kissing. Still, our lips were practically touching – our eyelashes nearly batting each others'.
“You’re so pretty and you’re so close. I really want to kiss you.” She said nothing. She just stared deeply into my eyes. “I’m going to kiss you.” Still nothing. Just a soft gaze. I slowly began leaning toward her, reaching for a kiss. She slowly backed away. She veered left, then right, then left again. The entire time I followed her movements, inches from her lips, the two of us doing a slightly sensual, super weird snake dance. Occasionally, someone else would walk by on the veranda. We would stop until they were gone and then go back to not kissing. We did this for about three hours it seemed. Then she thanked me for a wonderful evening and said we should do it again sometime. We never did.
If you’re having trouble picturing our actions, I have conveniently reenacted the event, though I was unable to secure a location permit so instead of filming it on the veranda, this was filmed on a couch.
+++