Dirty birdies!  Get your minds out of the gutter! I love it. But the V is for volume.

Something out of the blue the other day made me think about somebody I dated briefly.  I can’t recall exactly what brought up the thought, but there’s so much that rattles around in my brain at any given time it’s hard to peg it all down.  It’s like an information super highway during rush hour in there sometimes. In any case, there it was.

We met, hit it off on a lot of levels. He was funny, smart, tall, dark, handsome, and relatively charming.  We had the same sense of humor and that was a great way to ease into getting to know each other.  Conversation flowed very easily and we genuinely seemed to have a good time together.  We both weren’t looking for something serious, so that was a mesh as well. Things progressed at a perfectly casual pace and we saw each other a number of times, either out for dinner or chilling out sipping wine.  It was nice.

One of the nights after dinner we were back at my apartment enjoying some more wine on the sofa, and things started getting hot and heavy, and before long it was a solid make out session.  But one thing just wasn’t sitting right with me, and I was having a hard time ignoring it.  I couldn’t help but take note of how loud a kisser he was.  I mean, he was a good kisser, don’t get me wrong.  Just really loud.  I’m not even kidding you, it was really distracting.

I tried really hard to push on, I was digging the action.  But all I could think about was how it was the same sound as when a dog licks its balls.  Slurp, slurp.  How do you recover from that?  How are you supposed to keep on keepin’ on with the make out?  I guess I could have stopped and told him, but how awkward would that be?

Slurp.

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