I met someone.
Tall and handsome, he charmed me right into saying yes to a date.
The moment our eyes locked when we sat down together on our first date, I could feel the chemistry between us.
We talked for hours and with each story we exchanged, we grew closer.
We left the bar and went for a walk. He offered me his jacket.
We stopped at a grand marble staircase.
“Would you like to sit?” he asks.
So we sit. And not much time passes before he kisses me.
He kisses me and my breath falls away.
I am so absorbed in the sweetness of his kiss that I literally have to stop.
I press my hand to his chest, gently, and pull back to look into his eyes and I breathe again.
I lean in for another.
He touches my face, my neck, I can feel him breathe in my scent, his tongue is doing this thing, and it’s amazing.
It’s as though his kisses have overwhelmed my senses and none of it adds up.
How could a first kiss feel like that? So powerful, so intense.
It feels like my entire universe lights on fire, like the earth beneath us has shifted and in this moment absolutely nothing makes sense, yet everything makes sense, and it doesn’t matter.
I wasn’t expecting this.
I wasn’t expecting him.
Had he not kissed me, I probably would have left our first date happy, content, looking forward to another.
The sheer timing of it has left me questioning everything.