The first story I heard on the news this morning was something about a man who's been assaulting women in Boston by forcibly kissing them:
A man approached a woman on Prince Street before midnight on Friday and forcibly kissed her on the lips, police said. The area is normally packed on a Friday night.
"If that happened to me I'd be outraged, definitely," said one woman.
The suspect was described as white Mediterranean or Hispanic male in his late 20s to early 30s, five feet six inches to five feet eight inches tall, with short hair and a goatee.
When I was 18, I was kissed in France by a man I didn't know. He was just walking down the street and kissing random women. On the lips. I thought it was cute and funny and made for a good story. I didn't think of it as an assault. He was very good-looking, though. My guess is that the man in the story above isn't.
I was staying in the south of France with a friend for a few weeks that summer. I met a boy named Marlon- he was named after Marlon Brando. He took me for some rides on his motorcycle in the Pyrenees. He was adorable. He talked about saving money to come to the US to visit me someday, but he never did because he was killed on his motorcycle about a year later. I think about him sometimes.
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