Have you ever been to Brazil? If you have, you may have been the recipient of *kissy kissy* face, when a male (usually) makes a serious of luxurious *kissy* noises up to a full inch in distance from your face. Sometimes a bead of spit will manage to traverse this small distance to land on you, as was the case with my traveling companion, J. And isn't it so much easier to talk about when it didn't happen to you?
I was reminded of this the other day when, while crossing the street, I happened to look up at the driver of a car next to me, to notice that he was making Kissy Face. "Wow!" I thought, "It's like I'm back in Brazil!" For full disclosure purposes, let me add that I am a small Asian female. I know, right? So you can see where this is heading...but no.
Given recent sad events in India, this could be a depressing or even angry post, but that's not where I want to go with this. My friend J. and I were subjected to Kissy Face from 9:00 in the morning (J: "Already??") until late into the evening, and we even had a Kissy Face drive by, which J. tried to protect me from, but I looked by accident and got an eyeful. We laughed about the drive by for hours. There may have been a reenactment.
My point is this: I could have written this post a variety of ways: a) angry (men are international bastards!), b) distraught (why can't they just leave me alone?), or c) with a bit of humor. I can't always see the humor in things, but I would like to, because I think it gives you a bit of power, like the bad parts can't affect you, or at least, they can't leave a lasting impression, and kind of bead off you like water.
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