Not All Songs Were Meant For Dancing

French Kiss and How Curiosity Stole My Virginity

Brumous

(adjective.)

Of grey skies and winter days; filled with heavy clouds or fog; relating to winter or cold, sunless weather

Expectation truly is the root to all heartache.

I mean...I wasn't in love with him or anything, but...it still felt like somebody just pierced my lungs with a skewer. Okay, okay, just act natural.

People make assessments in the first few seconds of seeing another, and so did I. The playboy bunny reminded me of animal mating rituals, - chest out, strutting her ass like a peacock, trying to get all the males attention by showing off her best attributes.

Now, don't get me wrong – as far as I know she might as well be a really smart individual, with a knack for Math or politics...I never judge a book by it's cover.

She stared at Tara, examining her from head to toe, giving her that bitchy look that said – stayawayfrommymanorIwillcutyou. I wasn't shocked that she seemed threatened by Tara, most of girls were. And then she looked at me.

»Oh, how cute...what are you supposed to be...like a mime, or something?« She squeaked, completely ignoring Tara.

»Close.« I laughed, looking at Tara who obviously couldn't care less about Elliot's girlfriend. »I am french,« I pointed to my cool blue beret and a stripy shirt. »but this isn't a mime makeup.« I gestured towards my face. »It's a very famous kind of makeup...« I gave her a hint.

»Oh, um, a...circus performer?«

»It's Paul Stanley.« Tara rolled her eyes.

»Who?« Elliot's girlfriend lifted one of her eyebrows, giving her the stink eye.

»A guy from Kiss.«

Elliot's girlfriend still looked confused.

»It's a band, Erika.« Elliot smiled.

»Oh.« She nodded. »I still don't get it, what does this Peter Stanley...«

»Paul Stanley.« Tara corrected her.

»Peter, Paul, whatever,« Erika crossed her arms. »what does he got to do with french people? Is he french?«

»No,« I laughed. »french« I presented my clothes again. »kiss.« I pointed towards my painted face. »French kiss.«

»Oh. That's very...creative.« She replied with no enthusiasm whatsoever, while Elliot gave me a moronic smile.

That's it, I'm dressing up like a slut for this kind of parties from now on.

»Well, come on in.« Elliot moved away from the door.

»The bathroom is upstairs to the left, the snacks and drinks are in the kitchen.« Erika kindly explained before she dragged Elliot who knows where.

»This sucks.« I looked around the room drenched in teenage hormones. Or whoremones. It was like watching the Discovery channel. For example, a couple was dancing in the corner, a guy was basketball-huge and the girl was extremely short. Because of their height difference his crotch was in line with her belly – that reminded me of bedbugs – when a male wants to mate with a female he jabs her in the abdomen. With his thing.

A girl was sucking on her boyfriend's face. Literally. Midge's mate with what appears to include kissing, but is in fact the female sucking out the male bodily fluids. How romantic.

Oh and don't get me started on the girl in the tiny dress with so much tan lotion on her...my goddess, she was orange. Most of the guys in here were piling up around here, which reminded me of Red-Side Garter snake – during the mating season the snake will engage in a massive orgy, one female taking on hundreds of partners.