Just One Kiss
“Can I come over for just one kiss?” I texted Theodore, “and then I promise I will go.”
I hit send on the message in the back seat of a cab cruising over the Cambie bridge towards downtown Vancouver. It was 9:36pm on a Tuesday evening in late October, and I was enroute home from dinner at my best friend Claire’s. Under the influence of rosé and flourishing feelings, I was filled to the brim with excitement.
“I HAVE A BOYFRIEND!” I announced to the cab driver. “At least I think I do! I hope I do, that is, now that I think about it.”
From the look of consternation in the rear-view mirror, it was clear I was stopping a conversation and not starting one.
Returning to my phone, I messaged Claire to thank her for the lovely meal, and reassure the Boston Terrier CLARK, this new man would not, in anyway, detract my attention from him.
Sailing into a sea of glass towers, I tucked my phone into my pocket. Outside the window, a light rain fall applied a Gaussian blur to the city lights flashing by.
Surely, Theodore will acquiesce my request any moment now, I thought.
Feeling my phone vibrate, I raced to unlock it. One new message!
“Love you! Xo. CLARK says WOOF,” from Claire.
In the seconds that followed, my cheeks flushed with gratitude and then burned with disappointment.
As the cab passed Burrard Street and swerved into the West End, my sense of joy quickly turned into crushing disappointment. The plan, as I envisioned it, was not to get out at the Fox Den, but rather, redirect the final destination to Theodore’s. As someone who was not a singleton; but rather romantically involved would.
Then, taking a right on Barclay, my phone vibrated again.
“Ah!” I screamed. One new message!
“It is never just one kiss… and I have to work early… goodnight.”
My heart sunk into the floor mat as I scrambled to write back. While I certainly did not want to take no for an answer, I also did not want to sabotage this ‘relationship’ so soon in the game.
“In the seconds that followed, my cheeks flushed with gratitude and then burned with disappointment.”
“Please, please, please…” I began typing, before holding down the delete key. Even though I had been taught multiple times before, I still had to remind myself that desperation is not the best look on a man.
“We are here,” asserted the cab driver.
He was right. Across the street was my apartment.
Determined not to leave the cab under any circumstances before asking him to take me to my almost, hopefully will be, I do not see why not, should be, boyfriend’s place, I fired off another message.
“In cab, can stop at your place for quick kiss, promise will be just that and nothing more.”
“Are you paying cash or card??” demanded the cab driver, his patience waning, understandably so.
“Cash,” I replied, reaching for my wallet.
Come on Theodore, write back, write back, write back.
And then, just as I was about to pass him a twenty-spot underneath the Plexiglass my phone lit up.
“One kiss,” messaged Mr. J. Nelson.
My heart safely back in my chest, I proclaimed, “Actually, there has been a last-minute change of plans!”
Arriving in front of Theodore’s building, I made sure to tip forty percent.
“I hope this guy is worth it,” uttered the driver, speeding away as soon as I closed the door.
