You came out with us for St Patrick's Day and I was happy you were coming. We went downtown that night and every moment was fun, we held hands, and danced so close that there wasn't any room between us. We went upstairs to take a break and you and your friend were going to leave. You were hugging me goodbye and I turned my head slightly and lightly kissed you on the cheek and when we were pulling apart you kissed me on the lips and nice gentle kiss.
I laughed in your face the first time you tried to kiss me. I blamed the strange sensation of kissing a man with a mustache. It was probably nerves. I begged you to try again, and kicked myself for laughing a second time. I figured you'd never call me again... but you did. That was the moment I fell in love with you.
You: visiting from Europe, in town for a week, meeting me: from Toronto. On our way to your hotel, anticipation building, you turned to me and we kissed spontaneously, wildly, for the first time. It was beyond passionate. One year later, we are still sharing those kisses.
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