I slide my legs under the dining table at my girlfriend at home. It is Monday evening, the evening that now feels extra empty. It is wonderful to pour myself into her family life with baby snacks, a running toddler and a squeaky Peppa Pig in the background.
Beefly smile
“How was your weekend?” She asks casually. Suddenly I am alert. I hear something in her voice, it is the way she asks the question. A little caught I look up at her. She stirs quietly with a wooden spoon into the simmering pasta sauce. “Oh, fine,” I respond lightly. Maybe I imagine things. This weekend I decided not to share every French kiss with the whole world anymore, because it runs out a bit. Then she looks up at me with a big grin and one firmly raised eyebrow. “Handled something nice?” I feverishly browse the people I have toast this weekend. And suddenly I see her colleague in a flash in front of me.
Isabel is 38 and again alone: ’The fear of a date is huge’
A second later she pushes me her phone in my hands. It’s a video. From me. And of that incredibly handsome guest. He walked past and laughed at me. I laughed back. His dark hair, naughty eyes and belly smile caught my attention. He turned around, grabbed me and danced. I danced with him, put my arms around his muscular shoulders. We kissed maybe a few seconds in a dark corner of the pub and that was it. Not changed a word, it was exactly magical enough to think about it with a smile later. A small adventure on Saturday evening and especially no hassle. I thought.
Pumpkin stew
My girlfriend’s daughter enthusiastically jumps up and down in her high chair, while I play the video again. He was indeed very handsome, I see on the screen. And I was indeed on Brevenpad, the moving image also confirms. I sink a bit of shame in my chair. Where did the time go that I could just tongues in a pub anonymously? This is my second public kiss and it is two times it is stuck on the sensitive plate.
38 and again alone: ’He has another’
I look at my girlfriend guilty. “Well, it was nothing,” I Murmel. Suddenly I long for a time when only eyewitnesses and memories count. That you just denied everything, because of hearing was unreliable. But I have to face reality. I am 38 years old and again alone and tongues in the pub can apparently only be secretly in places where I don’t know anyone. My girlfriend nods in the affirmative when I explain my thought. “True,” she says. “But from now on you leave it out of your head to conceal one more French kiss in front of me.” And she rubs the pumpkin stew of the forehead of her daughter with a cloth.
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