Lessons From the Kissing Booth

Ok, so here's the thing.

We all know that I consider a guiding hand on the small of my back to be one of the sexiest, most intimate touches ever. It's an old fashioned gesture and so it sadly rarely ever happens, especially not in this town where everyone is all scaredy-scared of touching. Regardless, it's something that's been known to (under the right circumstances and with the correct person) make me demand that we turn around right now and go back to someone or another's place. None of you want to know any of this, but I have a point, and my point is that when it is the wrong person touching me there? It gives me the yucky shivers like a strong wind from down a dumpster-filled alley. Makes my skin crawl off, almost.

I didn't quite realize this until today, is all, but as it turns out it gives me a jab-you-in-the-gut-with-my-sharp-elbows reflex faster than touching my ears without permission will. (Although I have, in recent years, started to back down off the ear-touching karate chop. Because this is Seattle, where everyone is scaredy-scared of touching, and my ears are usually safe. Anyway they were, right up until I told you about how much I hate that.)

In case you were wondering, I did not jab Poor Unsuspecting Guy in the gut. But that wasn't for lack of thinking about it.

My further point is that I have decided that this will from now on be my cure for any No Reason Sads. I might be sad, I'll think, but at least the important places for touching are not being touched by the Incorrect Person.