My senior year at Wash U, I started to get to know a girl who had a long-distance boyfriend. Let’s call her Marsha.
Marsha had been dating this guy for many years. He was her first and only everything. That had long been planning to finally live in the same city after college and get married and have kids named Marshette and Marshall.
We started flirting.
The harmless flirting grew into a harmless mutual crush, and soon–under the guise of harmlessness–we were essentially dating. We went to parties together, we held hands, we’d lay in bed and talk deep into the night.
Marsha was completely transparent about her relationship with her boyfriend. She told him everything we did, and she didn’t try to hide him from me at all either. I wasn’t trying to win her away from him, nor was I trying to have her cheat on him with me. I just enjoyed the feeling I got when I was around her, and I went with the flow.
One day we went back to my place a little tipsy after a party. We found ourselves inches from one another as we stood in my living room.
Marsha looked me in the eyes and said, “I’ve never kissed anyone other than my boyfriend, and I’m never going to kiss anyone else. But I want to kiss you.”
I wanted to. Trust me, I wanted to. But I said, “Are you going to regret it tomorrow?”
That was our answer. We didn’t kiss; we never did. Eventually we realized that even without kissing, what we were doing wasn’t allowing Marsha to be true to her relationship, so we stopped.
It’s the little choices in life that I think back upon now and again, and this is one of them. I could have kissed Marsha. I know that. I don’t think it would have changed anything. Her life would have proceeded as planned.
But instead of not having a kiss that I blogged about someday, we would have had a kiss. Perhaps it’s the romantic in me that makes me wish we had that.
What do you think? Should I or shouldn’t I? Do you have a missed kiss in your past? Or a kiss that you’d take back?