The economics of kissing

Years and years ago, in my PreJennyMac life, I went out one evening with a medley of friends. During that evening, while socializing at a local nosh spot, I was introduced to the Big LeBaw. Big LeBaw was piece of work in that he was the constant salesman and oh so very confident in his skills. At one point in the night, he looks at me and initiates this conversation:

Him: So, what do you think ?
Me: Of what?
Him: The Kid?
Me: What kid?
In which he responds by pointing both of his thumbs toward himself and says: This kid.
Me: I don't.
Him: You don't what?
Me: I don't think of the kid.
Our mutual friends to BigLeBaw: HAHAHAHAHA...YOUR A _______ DUMBARSE.

Later, we all had a conversation about FatBoySlim, the DJ who was coming to concert the following month. People expressed their interest in going, including me.

BigLeBaw has had many, many, many sips of scotch. He says slurs: I will take you to the concert if you make out with me.

Me: HAHAHAHA.

Him: AND I will buy your drinks all night (which sounded more like anniwullbuyyerdrinkzshallnight)

Great. So the current market value of my kisses was basically a $36.00 concert ticket and several MillerLites at the non-liquor-serving-Concert Hall. Beats the 25 cent kissing booth but I passed on such a golden opportunity.

Maybe my kisses are worth more. Maybe less. But I wasn't about to determine the actual exchange rate over scotch breath in my face.

And since there was a crowd of witnesses, he was hazed mercilessly for this little anecdote. PS: I ended up running into him at the concert after all and he told me "You don't know what you're missing."

Oh, I believe I do.




PS Sidenote: Blogger is only displaying certain comments even though I published them. Hopefully it will shape up fix itself soon.