Two days ago, I was working. One of my exes came into the restaurant and coincidently was sat in my section. As he ate and I worked, we chatted. We hadn't seen one another in nearly three years, so we had some catching up to do. At the end of the meal, he asked if I was free that evening. I told him that I was going to school and wouldn't be free until nearly midnight. He asked if we could grab a drink after and I agreed.

Class came and class went. We actually got out early (our instructor told us it was because she was closing the deal on one of her houses, but I believe it was because another one of our instructors gave us play-doh and those noise makers that you would get on New Year's Eve....we were going to town...hee hee). I called the guy up and we met at a restaurant for a cup of coffee (Nope, I didn't take him to The Bar....he had not yet earned the right to know where I hang out on the weekends).

So, we sat and chatted and I was trying desparately to remember why I had broken up with this guy. He was cute, witty and a nice guy.

As it usually does, Nature reminded me shortly thereafter why I stopped seeing him the first time around.

He walked me out to my car and we kissed. The moment our lips touched, I remembered: the boy is the WORLD'S WORST KISSER!!

Now, I'm by no means an expert. I can count the number of people that I've kissed on two hands. But I do know what I like.

Yeah, I could have retrained him, but 1) life's too short to retrain crappy kissers, 2) according to some long dead physisist, if you put something out of it's normal state, eventually it will have to return to it's normal state....in other words, even if I taught the boy to be a better kisser, there's no guarantee that it would stick, and 3) somehow I'm thinking that telling someone that they're not a good kisser would lead to years of therapy. So, we parted ways....again.