Because of the barely averted horror of the previous evening, I decided that I needed to reaffirm my manhood on Saturday by picking on you throughout the night. And just when you thought you had forever escaped the discomfort of audience sexual harassment (my favorite activity in the theater), I've decided to continue picking on you in this public forum on the Internet. I have nothing better to do right now, and you are just too damn hot not to write about—those grab-able locks of curly brownish-blackish hair, those sexy glasses, that beautiful smile. You make me feel things in my vagina.
You should feel good that I singled you out to kiss me on stage. I mean, did you see that audience last night? It was one of the most attractive audiences that Brandon and I have ever had the pleasure of performing for. We were both very distracted throughout the show—Brandon eyeing hot chicks (why do you think he had a guitar in front of his pants most of the time?) and me undressing virile men with my eyes (so much to store in my spank bank). Oh, but it was you, embraceable you, Ryan, that was the chosen one.
Unfortunately, last night's grand prize winner, who had the choice of a fabulous DVD package or the prize that was hidden underneath the shoebox or the prize of watching me and you make out in front of a roomful of strangers, did not choose for us to join in a lip lock. Selfish, selfish woman.
One day, some time in the distant future, you will be married with kids, and you will think back to the night you almost got to snog me in public. You will look at that evening with nostalgia, fondness, and a tinge of regret.
Lucky for you, I will still be as dirty and loose as I am now. And you may e-mail me requesting that we fulfill the promise of that lost evening. And we will.