first kiss

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I always say that my first kiss happened behind a couch at the age of four. All hands and knees and tips of the tongue.

 

We hardly knew what we were doing. But sensed, it was something to be done out of sight—the act of it, somehow illicit.

 

We crawled behind the living room couch, gathered our limbs beneath us, and with out palms pressed into the wood floor, leaned in, our tongues meeting in the open space between us.

 

One tip pressed against the other.

 

We were four and thought that was what French kissing was…a touch of the tongue.

 

It hardly seemed worthy of any fuss.

 

Or the subsequent fallout.

 

We hadn’t considered the window behind the couch. Had misestimated the prying eyes of our three older brothers.

 

How quickly they told our parents. And how quickly we were spoken to.

 

I remember little of what was said, but have a clear impression of how Matt and I stood to the side of his childhood home, each of our parents sitting on the swollen yellow of plastic patio furniture.

 

Matt and I are still friends.

 

And he’s done something quite worth checking out.

(But I won't give you any hints to what it is).

 

 

 

**And for what it's worth, thank goodness kissing feels just as illicit and just as exciting--when it's done well. (Albeit, for quite different reasons).**

 

 

image: TWO CHILDREN KISSING AT
TENNIS NET by Vivian Maier, 1955

R BABY BENEFIT CONCERT

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A girlfriend of mine is involved with a really incredible charity endeavoring to improve pediatric emergency care.

 

Their mission is simple and straightforward: to save as many babies' lives as possible.

 

(Which seems to me as good a thing, as any, to rally behind.)

 

On July 23rd they are hosting a benefit concert at The Hammerstein Ballroom. As someone who loves music, and thinks live concerts  one of the very best reasons to live in New York City, an event that marries music and positive change seems like the very best way to spend a Thursday night.

 

General admission tickets are 100 dollars, with all of the proceeds going directly to the charity.

 

I will be there with bells and whistles (and probably in a pair of heels--if you're lucky, my gold shimmery ones I save for special occasions). And I was thinking it'd be really great to see some of your lovely faces there.

 

Click here for tickets.

 

And to learn more about the foundation, go here.

 

It's not often that I post about such things--but it's for such a great cause (and I think the music will be so good) that I couldn't help myself.

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Sometimes I imagine my fingers reaching for your knee. How we will be sitting, side by side, our faces illuminated by the soft glow of lamps, hands and knees hidden in darkness beneath the lip of the bar. It will be a tentative gesture--part exploration and held breath and exposed wish. The first of many leaps.

 

Later, I think on how your hands will hook my waist. Strong and confident, driven by need and desire and a sweet sort of wanting. But how that'll come only after. Only after I've opened small gates to you. One after another after the next.

 

Because you will never take what's not already been given.

 

You are made of a thing I hardly know how to touch or place or name, but would like, very much—more than anything really—to taste.

 

image source unknown

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