Chwaapuk?

It’s official. Somya doesn’t have a frickin’ clue as far as men go. Actually, true as that maybe, more pertinently, she’s not even on the same planet forget ballpark when it comes to me. Strike two and I’m so NEVER going out with any man Somya thinks I’ll get along really well with. For fuck’s sake, he’s a small man. A small Frenchman. From what angle do I resemble Carla Bruni?? To be fair, he is rather interesting, and I did enjoy the evening. Well read, well travelled, articulate, funny and a diver to boot (with the most incredible South Sea shark/ray experiences), but not only is he petit, he kisses with sound effects. Chwaapuk, chwaaapuk. While I admit to multitasking, kissing and giggling are not like parma ham and melon. And I did try. But there really is no chemistry. Not to mention feeling a tad like a paedophile. So, more embarrassingly, how do I explain the excess moisture I can’t blame on the rain? My stomach sinks to my uterus as the thought flits through my mind. I’m just like a man. But wait. I rack my appalling memory. We began kissing while we were still sitting. He wasn’t little then, and he wasn’t quite as noisy either. That’s got to be it. Because once outside, and missing a vertical six inches (give or take), environmental conditions were most suited to the amplification of those chwaapuk noises. There’s just no way in hell I can sleep with this man, response to earlier stimuli notwithstanding. Definitely time to call for reinforcements.

N. B. : Note to self. Do not entertain ANY man that says Somya suggested most strongly that we should meet.
N. N. B : Second note to self. Always stand up when greeting a man you’re meeting for the first time and don’t let them sneak up and sit next to you.
P.S. : Am I just hugely superficial?
P.P.S. : No. He’s not a good kisser
P.P.P.S. : I must be a man!
P.P.P.P.S. : Maybe I’m just being unfair because I’m feeling particularly aggrieved with Somya at this point. Should I give him another try? Viva le France??
P.P.P.P.P.S. : It also occurs to me that I don’t kiss and tell. So why am I so aggrieved now? I like that word. Very apt. I feel deeply aggrieved.
P.P.P.P.P.P.S. : A shorter, stockier, good kisser might’ve worked.
P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. : Maybe if we leave out the mouth to mouth altogether?
N. N. N. B : Seek help! Go to Switzerland.
P.P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S.: Bebous, if you're reading this, kindly do me the courtesy of picking yourself up off the floor and doing something to remedy the situation, especially given what a lousy job you did last time around!