People will think whatever they want to think. If they want to think that I had carnal relations down the Rape Lane, they’re simply going to think that, regardless of my insisting otherwise. It’s unfortunate that people have that opinion of me – I mean, I’m bad but I’m not that bad – but whatever.
Kissing is a funny kind of thing. I kiss a lot. I don’t know why. It doesn’t always mean something. There are different types of kisses. I don’t think kissing a lot of people makes you a slut. Maybe I’m wrong? Someone say something.
Friend kisses, kisses for the sake of kisses, lovely kisses, loving kisses. (I should stop those awful drunken kisses. It’s pretty tragic that I can’t remember most of them.) My favourite are first kisses. When you like someone and you’ve waited a forever to kiss them. Those are nice. The tension. The anticipation. The butterflies.
I am a sap. But not a slut.