text: Kissing Kate K. E. Elliot Here I am. In the corner of a dimly lit bar sipping a whiskey on the rocks. My date has excused himself all too early in the date to make a trip to the bathroom. I look at my reflection in the mirror on the wall in front of me. I'm young, twenty three, but not young enough to still be dating these kind of men - the guy you had an old flame with when you were an immature teenager who ultimately treated you like shit and for god knows what reason you said yes to going out with him again years later. I have reached the falling action of my story. Steve saunters back into the room and does a quick scan, either because he already forgot where we were sitting or because he's checking out the other options in the room. It could very likely be both reasons. He sighs and heads back over to the table; he was definitely doing the later, ass. Steve is cute. Soft brown hair which I can tell he took some time to style. Deep brown eyes that almost had a shine like he had just been crying. What got me was the smile. I'm a sucker for smiles. The most narcissistic jerk could flash an endearing smile and my knees go a little weak. What wasn't cute about Steve was his flippant attitude towards women. I have a long running pattern of winding up with men who don't respect me. More on that later. The clanking of a fork on the ground breaks my chain of thought. Steve is playing with his silverware. We only came for drinks, I did not want to fake the niceties of a dinner date at this point. Steve ordered for me. Some women view this as an insult to the feminist way, but, I enjoy it. I think a drink can tell you a lot about a person - how they are feeling, where they are in life, where they want the night to go. Steve ordered me a whiskey. Steve knew exactly where he wanted this night to go. We sit and chat for awhile. I almost think I'm having a good time until Steve asks me why I smile so much. Steve wants a leach. He wants someone who will mutually suck all the hope and happiness out of him so together they can sit in a mutual drunken empty stupor. At the end of the evening, we split the bill. It's the least I can do after I put Steve through the misery of an engaging conversation. We pull into my driveway and without any warning Steve grabs the back of my head and pulls me in for a kiss. This is very odd. Usually a man gently pulling me in for a kiss is hot; this was not that. This was Steve's way of avoiding having to lean over the center console. His kiss is unsolicited and is dripping with lust. It's too much, I pull away. A little surprised but quickly unbothered Steve says bye and I thank him and get out of the car. Later, I see Steve's snap story at another party, I was just the pre-game for the night. Same old Steve. I've met a lot of Steve's. Always wanting something more, never appreciating what's right there in front of them, selfish. I might sound crass but I'm painting the nicest picture possible of these men. I mostly blame myself. I often welcome the wrong guy into my life. Walls crumbling in the process. But, not all guys are Steve's. There are a lot of Sam's out there too. And Jacob's. And Bradley's. My name is Kate. I've kissed a lot of men. Bad ones, good ones, and some great ones. This is my journey. Follow a hopeless romantic in her efforts to find the perfect kiss and the perfect guy behind it.