To Every Man I've Ever Kissed, Part 2

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This is the (considerably shorter) half of this two part blog. You can read part 1 here if you want to read it , which covers right from when I was 6 to when I was 18. This one picks up where that one ended, and takes me right up to today, and was the harder half to write for sure. But then again it would be, because it's covering my most recent ex-a tale you've all heard before and one I'm doing my best not to dwell on too much any more. Succeeding mostly too.
Here's part two then:

To My Second Love;

It’s weird, I can’t remember our first kiss at all-I was still with Mr. #1 (though by this stage I don’t really know why) and it evolved as a goodbye peck on the lips-how I hadn't clicked that I majorly had the hots for you by then I just don't know. I remember the first proper ones though-I remember nearly everything about ‘Superhero Night’ actually, although I bet you've forgotten every detail. I remember holding the curtain open to let the moonlight illuminate your face and realising just how much I liked you, and that I didn’t feel guilty about it. It was finally time for me to let go of Mr. #1 and you became Mr. #2 not too much longer afterwards.

I always liked your kisses, they weren't slobbery, or sticky, and you weren't miserly with them but happy to give me as many as I wanted and take as many in return. When you used to send me goodnight texts with lots of xs on I'd joke that I actually wanted that many when I saw you again-and you always obliged. We were sickeningly sweet behind closed doors, although I doubt many of our friends would have guessed because we were never really affectionate in public-something which I didn't actually mind too much at all.
I can still remember our last kiss-I remember the ending as clearly as the beginning actually. It was a day full of emotions and tears and heartbreak on both sides. At the end you left and I remained collapsed on the bed, utterly broken. I heard your footsteps over my head as you walked out of my house and then I ran after you, wanting to kiss you goodbye just one more time. It was a fleeting kiss, as you stood on my doorstep for the last time, and it tasted of tears but I'm glad we had it because it was the final full stop on the final page of our book, and I really needed that.
Heartbroken, I may have been, but I'm thankful that we ended things properly. Even though that wasn't the last time I ever saw you, in my head it was the ending of everything I knew at the time so I'm grateful to have a good memory to look back on, really. I can forget everything after that, because you’d already moved on anyway, but that kiss was the last moment you were ever mine.

To Mr. Next, Whoever You May Be;

I've imagined how our first kiss will go a hundred times (although you don’t actually have a face in my mind yet) but I know it won’t turn out like that, really. I'm going to be so nervous and feel incredibly sick and it’s going to be awful.  It will be my first ‘first kiss’ for at least 4 years so I'm not really going to know what to do with myself. I'll be horrendously under confident and shy and basically wishing you would do all the work so I don't have to. I apologise in advance if I bash my teeth into yours or turn my head the wrong way or can't actually look at you at all because our faces are so close and I want to kiss you but just can't. I’ll be nervous and jittery and undoubtedly a bit crap-it's been a while, I've sort of forgotten what I'm supposed to do and how it all works. I'm hoping it will all come back to me after that first time, but you might need to remind me a little. I just hope you’re understanding, and kind, and laugh with me when things go a bit wrong rather than letting it make things even more awkward. I'm looking forward to it (and am terrified about it) already. Now come and find me already, I'm getting impatient!

-Jenni-