Of course it was premeditated. I should have caught the signs. The licking of the lips, the fluttering of the eyelashes followed by looking bashfully at the ground – these were all strategic moves in an effort to reach a final, confusing preteen endgame: the kiss. Not that I was fighting it. I wasn’t nearly the last kid in grade-seven to kiss someone but I sure as hell didn’t want to be in the running.
Later she’d told me that the latest issue of Cosmopolitan had told her that in order to let a man know she was interested she should slowly trace her lips with her tongue while maintaining eye contact; which I thought was strange when it first happened since I’d just told her about my dog having been treated for worms. And now, as I licked an embarrassing amount of poutine gravy from my lips, I felt a similar strangeness, but hoped that my interest in you was clear, albeit messy.
Portrait by Justin Longoz for #POBEshow 2014