Two Open Letters:

Dear Men of Miami:

We may go on dates, and then I might make out with you, if you're passably un-queeny, and I'm not thoroughly creeped out by you.

Congrats.

When I'm into it, I'm an excellent makeout (don't ask Monica about this) You will note that pre-(and during) the makeout I am pretty much constantly chewing gum. Please be advised that before a date, I have also brushed my teeth and flossed. I do this, because I do not want to be a disgusting human being (read: probably normal) with stinky spit. Do you know WHY spit stinks? BACTERIA! ARRRRRRRGHHH!

Your failure to brush your teeth, floss, kill anything living in your mouth, and chomp on gum, destines any potential make-out session to under a minute and a half long, until I'm like "Ughhhhhhh. Gross. I can't do this anymore! I can smell your spit on my neck, and you taste bad," and then I pull away and make up some lame excuse about having to go to Court early in the morning, and gosh it's been swell, and yeah, I'll call you.

But we both know I'll never call you back. Which is a shame. For both of us, really, because you had a nice build, but, eeeeeew...a bad first-makeout is basically unsalvageable for me. So... Sorry. Bad sex? That can improve. But people can't become more compatible kissers.

I will own up to being an over-thinking, over scentsitive (HA! Pun!) person when I'm sober, requiring everything to be showered, deodorized, and squeaky clean; below my generally rumpled and furry beplaided exterior lies a deodorized, powdered, minted, good-tasting interior. (Awkward.)

Oh, you can be hairy (in fact, I prefer it), but just don't stink like old mouth.
But, like, really? You want to make out with me on a first date, and there's no hint o' mint? What have you been doing, besides worrying constantly (like I have been doing...) that you might taste bad? Well, whatever you were doing, sorry, my friend, it was all for naught.

So, Men of Miami, unless you have naturally constantly awesome breath, because you eat a diet of nothing but parsley and flowers, brush your teeth, and chew some effing gum before you (or I) move in for the kill. And if I'm struggling to suck my tongue back out of your mouth... let me. I think it's just common courtesy. Sort of like brushing your teeth before a date.

Awkwardly,

Me.



An Open Letter to my Friends:

Monica - sorry I bailed on the Ballet thing, and no, I'm not giving you details. Everyone else - don't ask, I'm not going to talk about it, you get no details either. I love you, but you're not an exception, either. : ) Yes, you.

Just be happy I'm trying to date people again. But fuck. This horse is a difficult one to jump on. Especially when it tastes like stinky spit.