The second time I hung out with my now boyfriend,
I swear I coated on 7 layers of chap stick.
I told myself the night before to hurry up and wait,
let the anticipation and excitement grow, and take it slow.
But guess what I did,

I kissed him... right on the lips... or chin, maybe.
I rushed at his face at 100 miles per hour,
and I'm surprised he didn't dodge or even *** when he saw.
Yet instead he said he melted into a puddle on the floor,
while at the time I had hummingbirds drag racing in my stomach.

He also claimed his plans were ruined,
that I initiated his going-to-be action first.
With that I suddenly mocked, “yeah well, don't worry, you'll be finishing first anyway”.
And as his face slowly morphed into a tomato,
I realized how the best things in life are usually impulsive,
and how hurry up and wait usually means,
hurry up and delay.