Feelin’ On Yo Booty

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Of Affection…

Let’s talk about it.

I’m still on this celibate tip (can you believe it?!) but I’m not above making out with a cute boy. This is my individual journey so I’m creating routes as I go. A few weeks ago, I met this dangerously good-looking mixed race gentleman. I would describe him as Gaston from Disney’s “Beauty and the Beast” if Gaston had a Korean mommy. I instigated conversation and seemed to win him over with my specific brand of charm.  We decided to grab a drink after the party finished and got into some pretty interesting life topics.

There was a lot of touching during our conversation (the knee, the shoulder, the forehand, entwined fingers), the sexual chemistry was on high. It was a school night, I wasn’t going to sleep with him but does that mean I couldn’t get a little chups,* it had been FOREVER. We left together and chatted a bit on the sidewalk in front of the bar and for God and the world to see, he leaned in and kissed me. It. Was. Good! So good, I had to put one of my needed-to-be manicured hands against his barge-chest.

Suddenly, I hear the rumblings from a patio patron exclaiming he’s seen a lot of PDA that night…

*single blink*

JEALOUS MUCH?!?!?!?!,” my brain exclaimed as KG (Korean Gaston) laboriously worked his lips in ways I forgot existed. I was really enjoying myself until his hand, flopped upon my left breast and stayed there like a geriatric sloth that simply could not be bothered to hoist itself into the trees any longer. It blipped on my radar because he didn’t do anything with his hand. Not a squeeze, not a caress, not even a mammo. Trying very hard not to ruin the moment, I aggressively seductively removed his hand. Then his hand shot up to chest cliff again! Ummm…..ok.  Removed it yet again.  Maybe three times was the charm in his mind but it wasn’t in mine. In case he decided to try his move again, I interlaced my fingers into his and kept them by our sides. The kissing was quite lovely and I wanted to squeeze as much of that goodness out as possible but then I felt his other hand reach under my dress to cup my bum.


My attention, momentarily broken, allowed him to free his other hand from mine and plop it down on my fantastic rack again. Sooooooo…really that’s the end of this story. I have no problem with a little exploration in these situations but isn’t there a way to be a little more smooth; the world doesn’t have to see what you’re getting the privilege to traverse. Maybe in his mind, he was being completely debonaire. Maybe he was trying to squeeze the most out of our time together in his way because I told him I wasn’t going home with him. I can’t be mad at it or him, people and their boundaries/comfort levels are different. Here are my observations when it comes to PDAs:

  1. They’re loads of fun
  2. You don’t need to overtly cop a feel in public for it to remain fun

I don’t know if it’s a fine line, but there’s definitely a visible etching in the sand for these types of things. If you and your partner are exhibitionists, then sure, knock yourself out. But for me, there is nothing more turn-offable then being non-suavely groped.

So consider this my PSA for PDAs: Just. Be. Cool. It’ll all work itself out if it’s supposed to.


*Chups (pronounced like “choops”) means getting action without the doing the entire deed, if you know what I mean. So “a little chups” is like a great kiss.


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