Canadians Know What it's all Aboot

Ah, to hail from the land of the north where police ride horses and don't need sirens because of those tacky red jackets and large black hats. There, the people prosper with comfort of knowing there's always going to be another Tim Horton's a block away. So it's only natural one of my fellow canadians stole a kiss from me before anyone else. It was nothing special. Actually, it was a move to possibly get a kiss from the guy I had the "hots" for. Most of my friends had boyfriends so I was feeling a little desperate and willing to lower the bar and go for what was available. I mean the dude didn't even brush his teeth. Very kissable, if you know what I mean. My "crush" that began in primary lasted into high school and finally the occasion to snatch some action presented it's self. He had rejected me in the past which was a great confidence booster seeing as I had set my sights low (apparently not low enough) but I persisted in my mission to make him fall for me. For a bunch of twelve year olds, you might imagine a little bit of different setting for where we finally kissed but we youngsters did not settle for party hats and a cake, we had a hot tub party. Obviously a game of truth or dare and spin the bottle were in order. One of my friends dared the guy's best friend to kiss me. We did. Second kiss of my life. The end. Apparently, this move still got me a kiss from the guy I originally wanted to get kissed by but needless to say we only remained friends and it was the most disgusting kiss of my life (I could taste his lunch). Funny fact: the next year he moved to New York. At this point, to get a kiss from me is like a guarantee that you will have the urge to move far far away. Sad, eh? I'm not feeling too good about this, naturally. I could only hope for the best in the near future and remind myself: "Practice makes perfect".