The last thing I thought about before going to sleep last night was, of all things, how I still hadn't looked online to see if photos of my breasts had appeared online since the Dyke March in Toronto this summer. Photos of our topless escapade have not, as of yet, made it onto the offical website or on a google image search for "Dyke March Toronto," alas (although I will admit, they can be found elsewhere online.)
While in the googling mood, however, I looked up images of Queer McGill and found this lovely reminder of the Queer McGill kiss in back around this time last year. That weekend, and not soley due to the kiss in alone, I think I doubled the number of people I had ever kissed in my life. Of course, back then, the thought of getting some kind of infectious virus from my activities never even crossed my mind. And now I have to endure all sorts of jokes from family and friends about my promiscuity when it comes to making out which might have been appropriate last year, but seems unfair since I haven't participated in one of the famous Queer McGill mass make out sessions since.. hmmm... April?
I'm not bitter. But this morning, as I was standing in the shower, wishing I had someone to kiss, I realised that I couldn't, even if I did.
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1 comment:
Well, that was my first and last kiss-in (that's me in the orange shirt . . . is that JD's hand on my ass?).
Now that I think of it, I'm sure we didn't kiss that day, because we hadn't even met. I've got such rotten luck.
love
quvi
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