Do you know about the air kiss? It’s like that song, ‘everybody’s doing it, doing it, doing it’; everybody’s doing it except for me. I’m as far away as you can get from the cool scene, always have been. Remember the lava lamp? The crock pot? The fondue set? I was in after they were out.

But I was fortunate enough to attend a reunion recently.  There were air kissers as far as the eye could see. And they all seemed to want to get reacquainted.

Relative strangers (I hadn’t seen them for decades) charged at me, lips prepped and right cheek front and centre making mwah, mwah sounds into my right ear.

‘Hello, remember me? I’m Betty. I sat next to you in Maths class, har, har.’ * Betty is a busty, bottled blonde now; I’m afraid I wasn’t able to make the connection. But I nodded obligingly.  She quizzed me on every intimate detail of my life, past and present and then went into the lurid details of her own. When she was done she moved on making way for the next kisser. This pattern repeated itself for the next couple of hours. Mwah, mwah. Mwah, mwah.  Mercifully after a baker’s dozen worth of them, my hearing cut out.

But I hung on. Phone numbers were taken, invitations made. Future air kisses in the offing.  Cool at last.

*Changed the name to protect the innocent (me).

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