Sometimes, when I listen to people talk about their one night stands, about that random person they kissed in a club, I think that maybe I'm the one who's missing out.

Because everyone says I should live more now that I'm young, that these are things you do when you are in your twenties, not fifties.

And I have to say that I tried once, for you can't find out if something's true unless you try.

I kissed the cute guy in the club. And it wasn't that bad.

But when we parted with a "goodbye" and a smile, we also parted being fully aware we weren't going to see each other again.

And so what? What remained of what we shared?

It's in moments like these that I'm reminded of the seventeen year old me.

The me who broke up with her first boyfriend because the crush had been quick to fade.

Because his “I missed you” were met with a mind thinking “I didn’t”, a soul feeling guilty.

And his affectionate