I DON'T NEED YOUR FRENCH KISSES

It was an unusually chilly evening in March, and my mind was positively restless. I’d forgotten to set an alarm for the next morning, the shoes I was wearing were two sizes too big, my friends were calling my name from a location I couldn’t quite identify and I really, really had to pee. It took about thirty seconds longer than normal for me realize that at the exact moment all of these thoughts were rushing through my prefrontal cortex, I had a boy’s tongue in my mouth. 

I wish I was bluffing.
​
Deep down, I knew from the second that this said-boy laced his fingers with mine that I was in for another ‘blah-makeout’ which might lead to a ‘blah-“wanna get outta here”’  and a (hollow) ‘blah-“I’ll call you sometime.”’ I foresaw the entire chain of events that would ultimately play out like an interstate fender bender— quick and headache-inducing. 

The process has become so frustratingly repetitive.
What at one point in time might have caused a rush of adrenaline and hours of fantasizing over the names of our future children, was instead evoking feelings of boredom. Am I getting too old for this? 

Quite frankly, I wouldn’t be surprised if I’d stifled a yawn or two as he proceeded to explore my inner jaw—while I continued to internally compile reasons why I should be elsewhere, tackling my lengthy to-do list.  
A domino effect that I wouldn’t predict in the moment, however, would be the next morning’s missed 9 a.m. phone call from my mother and unsightly blisters caused by the too-big shoes from Hell. 

Am I being unappreciative of a good make out? Maybe.
After all, my friends had told me that so-and-so and I ‘would really hit it off’ (along with the fact that he apparently has an ‘impeccable ass’).
Perhaps I was letting my mind wander, ultimately protecting myself from the crushed expectations and the phone call that would never come. Or maybe, just maybe, I'm putting my eggs in the wrong basket.  

Nevertheless, this got me thinking:
Do we even know what’s ‘good’ for us anymore?
Is our generation so hooked on an endless cycle of what it is that we are told, and think we need, that we’re neglecting our true needs?
Will we ever complete our to-do lists?

Remember when we were thirteen and a simple suggestion from Mom to pop a multivitamin or make our beds would commence World War III?
Instead of dubbing myself hopelessly lazy and predictable for focusing my energy on the wrong things, I’d rather describe myself as an individual who simply chooses unconventional ‘priorities’— like creeping on perfect Instagram strangers and binge-watching Game of Thrones. 

After wracking my brain over this for months, I’ve managed to come to a somewhat-conclusion that ignoring the ‘good’, ‘important’ things in life is alright in certain respects, but not others. Namely: it’s probably vital to use deodorant, pay taxes and wash your hair every few days. Still, it’s crucial to have a little ‘me time’ with no to-do lists, priorities, or alarm clocks. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise: You're the hero of your own story. Refuse to let anyone besides you dictate your own morals, beliefs and actions. You don't have to be predictable! Rather, fight to be unpredictable. It suits you better, I promise. 

It’s up to us to change the pace of society. 
We need to swiftly flip the railroad switch, alter the tracks and focus on what will truly benefit us in the long haul. I will note, we also need to recognize that this is much easier said than done. 

At the end of the day, if you find yourself in the wrong story, leave.
And if you find yourself in a similar situation as mine, tell the boy you don’t need his french kisses. In my book, that's the first step to finding out what is truly ‘good’ for you. ​

Photos courtesy of weheartit.com