A Testimony to My Romantic Ineptitude in New Beginnings

I haven't been kissed or kissed anyone in over eight years, now. That's a really long time when you think about it. I wrote about these experiences before in my Open Diary, but I suppose I'll summarize them again.

Her name was Katherine. I was a graduate student at the time, and she was a freshman. She had a boyfriend, and I suspect she had given her virginity to, which she regretted doing. When she met me, she tried to seduce me. I think she wanted to convince herself that giving her virginity up wasn't a big deal, and she thought taking mine from me would vindicate herself. I am glad didn't have sex with her, but she did kiss me at one point, and that was the last kiss I've had.

Before Katherine, there was Charlotte. Charlotte happened over five years before Katherine. I had just graduated high school and started college. I was 18 years old, wet behind the ears with no dating or relationship experience. I was very socially awkward and isolated in high school as I somewhat mentioned in my previous journal entry. I started college with the notion that things were going to be different. My life was going to turn around. I was going to find my niche, fit in, and not be so solitary.

I met Charlotte through one of the campus ministries. She invited me to hang out with her a few times. It was always in groups, but when the group event ended and we were going our separate ways for the evening, she and I ended up alone together. The first night we met, she walked me back to my dorm, and kissed me on the cheek when we said good night. A few weeks after that, after going with her and her friends to a coffee shop, she came with me back to my dorm and kissed me good night on the lips. There was no warning or build up to it. She came with me to the front door, we said good night, and bam, right on the lips. I should also mention that Charlotte was engaged. The seriousness of her engagement is up for debate. That relationship of hers was sort of doomed, not the least bit because of her lack of fidelity. Regardless, I should have been stronger to resist the advances from a taken woman.

Still, she was just so charming. Actually, the attention was just so charming. I had never had a girlfriend; I never had the nerve to approach or pursue any girl I was smitten with. Along comes a woman who's willing to hug me, flirt with me, and kiss me. She'd tell me that was "beautiful," which was kind of weird considering she's the girl and I'm the guy, but I'm not going to object to a woman deeming me physically desirable. Our last kiss happened probably a week or so after the second one. We went walking around campus one night together. At one point during our promenade, she stopped, pulled herself close to me, and proceeded to kiss me. That was probably the last, and only, real kiss I've had. Even when Katherine had kissed me, it was just a peck on the lips, but those last kisses from Charlotte were not unlike the make out scenes in a movie. That is, the kiss was probably three or four kisses linked together, but you could only count them as one because our lips didn't separate during that time. I'm guessing it was three or four. I think about the time I started getting excited, I pulled away and told her I didn't want to get that physical while she was involved with someone else. I'm sure my sudden rediscovery of integrity would have been much more inspiring had the kissing not put me into a trembling fit. I suppose upon finally getting some affection after starving for it for so long, my nervous system was experiencing a sort of sensory overload. I'm sure she walked away from that convinced that she was hottest kisser on the planet.

I really wish I could get to experience something like that again. I guess I'd like to have at least one real, full fledged make out session while I'm alive. I worry at my age, that's not really possible for a couple of reasons. For one thing, I'm concerned that women in my age range have gotten that out of their system. Almost as if their attitudes are, "I'm not 23 any more; let's act like an old couple." Secondly, I've been living this pattern of isolation for so long, I can't bring myself to break out of it. I can't bring myself to do anything beyond work, gym, veg at home, repeat. My routine has become habitual, and breaking a habit is hard to do.

Even if I did break out of my habit, I'm afraid that any romance I could grab a hold of would be doomed. When I try to imagine having a future with a woman, any woman, even a fictitious ideal woman from my imagination, I have to face the issue of my dad and his health problems. As he gets older and his health deteriorates, his care is going to fall to me, and caring for him could very well mean relocating to rural south Georgia. I can't imagine any woman be willing to take on this baggage, and even if I could find such a saint, I'm not so sure I could let her do that. Worst case scenario is that she'd regret her decision and end up resenting me for it. Best case scenario is that she'd suffer silently. Neither, of those options sit well with me.

Maybe I'm meant to be alone. Maybe everything I spoke about in my previous entry was preparation for a life of solitude. The thing is, when Katherine was cuddling with me or Charlotte was kissing me, I remember that I enjoyed it, but I don't remember what that enjoyment felt like. It's like I'm slowly becoming numb, and I don't want to lose the capacity to experience those feelings. I guess if I become fully numb on this issue, it won't matter. Hopefully, losing that sensitivity would bring with it an imperviousness to feelings like regret.