He could so much be a bad kisser...

I’m so embarrassed.
I’ve been repeating “I’m sorry” to myself since we parted.
I couldn’t remember his name. Total blank about it.
I remembered a lot of other things, though. That he majored in philosophy. That he’s a competition biker. That he had an accident.
All of these from more that 5 years ago. From when he was my student.

And I always thought he was cute and all, and interesting. And not ordinary, for the things he chose for his life. And also, he had this air of a good boy, of a family boy, you know? One that’s been raised properly, but still managed to keep a good deal of personality and be an interesting person. The dating kind. And, of course, he was always dating. Is, still.

I did not foresee what was to come. I did not feel the vibe. I cold never have imagined. Plus, he was kinda drunk. And, all the same, whenever we meet, he stops to chat with me. He always kept it close and friendly between us. Even though, I could never remember his name. (Gosh… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…)

So we met. At a queue, a party of five. And he stayed around, though I did not introduce him to my friends cos I did not remember his name.
And we chatted. For over an hour. And we gave up the bar, all of us.
And he asked me to drive him up to his car.

Damn it. He could so much be a bad kisser…

At some point, the name came to my mind. And I called him that.
He corrected me. Harsh and blunt. God. I’m sorry. So sorry…
We’d been talking and cuddling for ages, then. And I called him the wrong name.

I drove all the way back home feeling embarrassed of myself. And thinking how good his kiss was. And how nicely he spoke of his girlfriend. And of my decision of not making love to him. And of how much I’ve been craving for someone willing to conquer me on a daily basis.
And of his words “this, between us, is never going to happen again.”

I woke up this morning and I still felt a bit embarrassed. But happy.
I do not want a one night-stand amazing connection. I want the real thing.