The other weekend I accidentally kissed my friend. Well, to be clear, he kissed me- a bold move that I didn't see coming what with his sassy, unfettered charm that rivals John Wilkes. In his tow you're sure to find a flock of Levi 511-fiending women; and I thought said female trail rendered me safe from the wrath of his lusty stronghold. But hmf, not so much. Always one to admit my often erroneous thoughts, I was admittedly wrong here on two accounts: (1) I erroneously thought he would be able to resist restrain himself if for no other reason than that he hates snarky publicity. (Don't worry, I'm not ruining a friendship here. He offered up his John Hancock the second he pressed his sexy lips to mine.) and (2) I erroneously imagined two attractive, unattached, straight people of the opposite sex could be just friends. Months of opportunity lost; what changed his mind? Why this time? Maybe it was my magic headband. Maybe it was his lucky Levis 511s. Last night the DJ did not save my life. I blame it on the dancefloor. I blame it on the Goose. Or maybe I'm just genetically wired for men like a chubby kid in a candy store. And if the pied piper wears ice skates, then I'm utterly beyond. 

I always have this issue with guy friends - probably every girl does. You accidentally kiss and have to have a "talk" about it, which I'm obviously not a fan of otherwise it's awkward. But, and here in lies el problemo, it's really not an emotional issue for me. I can kiss you and move on. The next week you can fall in love. Hell, I will happily throw you an engagement party when you choose to tie the knot. Maybe I'm an anomaly among women, but I'll be totally, completely, fully, utterly, undoubtedly fine. (And many of my guy friends - you know who you are - can attest to this.) Not only am I fine, but you can call me and (if I answer) I'll listen to your relationship problems. I'll go to charity media events with your girlfriend. I'll have a beer with you and your work friends. Or you'll have a beer. I'll have champagne, thank you. Even with true ex-boyfriends - they are exes for a reason; and I'm happy if they find someone who they really like...just as long as I'm prettier and smarter. Duh. That's called self-esteem, people. I didn't go through years of training to be a jealous friend, a jealous ex or a jealous anything. I have heaps of srsly sticky flaws, but jealousy is not one of them.

Unfortunately, most human beings lack the self-esteem (however laboriously earned) I possess. So what happens next weekend when we go out? I already love him to death or we wouldn't be friends. I already think he's super handsome and smart and funny and has a nice ass or again, we wouldn't be friends. But I'm not his girlfriend and you can bet your vintage crocodile Birkin, that my attention will be diverted. Skates or no skates. Levis or no Levis. Something will lure me... or it won't and I'll totally act like your girlfriend, leaving a trail of crumpled, mixed messages. And for that I apologize because when it comes to the opposite sex, I'm a bit like a dude. After dealing with them for so long, some dude-ness was bound to get caught in my frills. Coupled with being city jaded, I'm dangerously close to a dating schizophrenia diagnosis.

But I'm not that far gone. I'm not that jaded by New York's dating anxieties. I know apathy does not make a good story, a fun personality or an interesting life. My awkward friend/foe kissing episodes and increasingly impressive ability to breakdown every and any male-centric situation is a gift that I will continue to use even after the cosmos align. Who says they have to be awkward? Embrace the unknown!

So to all of the friends I have kissed, will kiss, and should have kissed before we lost touch: Exhale. Kissing, despite whatever popular belief wants us to think, is a first step on the road to possibility. It sustains our ability to believe in love - in any capacity. (I love Mia and I kiss her all the time!) Embrace the kiss and you will be able to feel as comfortable around me as I feel around you.