Holy Tongue.

Before dinner this evening, I went to drinks with my BFF. Sitting behind her was a young-ish couple — they were both on the same side of the table, and they were facing me. She was blonde and of slight build, while he looked scruffy and mountainous — but was also semi-lean in appearance.

Their food came, and they briefly admired it. Hers was a blue cheese wedge salad of sorts with a mound of foofy shaved red onion on top, and his was a flatbread pizza.

As their plates sat in front of them, I noticed that she was suddenly deep in prayer, complete with furrowed, pensive brow; so was he. They were expressing their thanks, their gratitude and appreciation for the food in front of them, and I went back to chatting.

A few seconds later, I realized they’d completed their prayer — because they were in the process of making out at their table. That must’ve been one heckuva prayer because…

…holy [awkward] tongue. If there was ever a “love your neighbor as yourself” moment, this was it.

(…although I can’t recall ever “loving” myself in that way.)

What started as a series of awkward, rhythmic pecks where only their lips moved (there weren’t fewer than 20, I swear) quickly turned into a tongue — er — “lashing”…as in, an affectionate, amorous make-out session. Thankfully we were there only for drinks and an appetizer of Japanese-spiced edamame, otherwise my dinner would’ve been ruined.

I tried to position myself so that BFF’s head would block the scene in front of me, but sometimes they’d reappear in my line of vision. It was slightly gnarly. Without dissecting their love too much, I wondered if she’d partaken of any blue cheese prior to making out, and I suspected that his pizza wasn’t overly spicy which, natch, would’ve perhaps contributed to a shorter make-out session. Since you may be wondering, this took place on an outside patio; it was, more or less, broad daylight.

After they came up for air — er, finished their affectionate display — they dove into their plates of food (I imagine they worked up quite an appetite). Our check came and we had to restaurant-hop over to dinner, so we were robbed of anymore of their presence.

That said, seeing people of faith, um, “enjoy” their time together was pretty awesome. The last dude I attempted to date in the spring was a supposed God-fearing man who, unfortunately, liked to dress up as a pirate and tell me that “flogging” others with his whip was great fun…and that I may want to consider it.

(Nope – no joke.)

Since then, I’ve avoided church and I’ve not bothered to date a soul. Do you blame me? Tonight I am thankful for people who have the courage to date, for people who apparently still have faith and for the inspiration they gave me to once again return to my belief that there are good people out there. What I first considered a gnarly, public tongue-fest turned into a great lesson and food for thought. Here’s to finding good people, sans-costume. Arr!

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