Kissing My Way Through Life: A first date short-story
I ordered my uber and nervously checked myself in the mirror. I had four minutes before Abdul’s arrival, just enough time to finish any last-minute pre-date inspections. Breath, check. Teeth, check. No wofty underarm pits or white deodorant marks, check. No crinkly white pube like cat fur all over my clothes, check. Black on black on black on black is always my go-to uniform for a first date. Tonight I had chosen a skin-tight ribbed matte black bodysuit with a classic round neckline, making sure it was not too low cut. This is one of my wardrobe essentials, which contours all the right places, and doesn’t require that I wear a bra or make my boobs look too big — first impressions last and all that. I paired it with super tight black jeans which glimmered and sparkled when in the light. They made my butt look big, and I like having a sparkly lifted arse on a first date.
Black jeans transported me back in time to fond childhood memories, and the real-life stories my Mum lovingly told me. “When I met ya father, I had to lie down on the bed and get Jacks to help me into my jeans they were so f’ing small; it was just how tight we wore jeans in those days”. I imagined my mother lying there on the bed, size six and 5-foot nothing, legs sprawled apart, waist-length blonde hair strewn across the mustard ribbed corduroy bedspread, barking at her then kid sister to hold both sides of the zipper together so she could zip up and look effortlessly hot for my Dad. I wondered how she peed.
Uber pinged and the “I’ve arrived” message popped up on my phone, plunging me back into reality. I noticed my huge grin and eyes twinkling in the mirror at the thought of my parents falling in love so long ago.
(To Be Continued in Part 2….)