You were in love. You finally got a date. Everything was absolutely perfect. The waiter was unusually nice. You ordered wine. She drank wine. You said funny things. She laughed. She said funny things too. You laughed some more. Then, you took a post-dinner walk in the most romantic city in the world and came midnight, you were on a bridge over la Seine. There was a light breeze of course. The moon. The freaking stars all aligned. Her hair dancing across her face as she looked at you.
And then… then…. something absolutely horrible happened: NOTHING.
You didn’t kiss the girl! I mean, seriously! What’s wrong with you, dude? She was there, right in front of you, smiling, and… you know… like open territory! And you…? You stood there talking about the
Seine becoming swimmable again, once they're done upgrading the waste water system.
Poof. The moment was gone.
You messed up. She’s gone. Partie. Departed. Dating better guys who would rather French kiss her than talk sewage.
No problem! You’re a writer. All you have to do to get the girl back… when you’re done knocking your head on every wall of you tiny apartment over rue des Martyrs while crying that you’re a freaking idiot for not kissing her… All you have to do to get her back, I was saying, is to switch on your laptop, start your word processor and just… correct that.
See, shazam! You can relive the entire event. The restaurant. The walk. The
Seine. The Breeze. You can even pretend it smelled like daisies in spring. You cut out all the embarrassing moments, you don’t mention cleaner water, and, finally, you can jump on the girl and give her that kiss you failed to deliver in reality.
FYI: You can also add UFOs, Aliens, Spacegirls, Vampires, a guy called
- anything that will make this stupid kiss take place, really. Nancy
But then, beware of the blank page… the blank page is the literary equivalent of a guy not bungee jumping into a first kiss.