I Don’t Recommend It.

I had my first cold sores last week.  I don’t recommend it.  They’re pretty awful really.  I got Abreva like the drugstore clerk told me to, and I was upset that it didn’t seem to be cutting the pain at all.  Then, I washed my face and washed off the Abreva.  Holy cow was it doing a lot.  I just didn’t know it.  I am also swallowing massive amounts of Lysine, in Mike & Ike sized white lozenges.  If you can avoid it, don’t ever get a cold sore.  Trust me.

I mostly mention this because it’s made me realize just how spoiled I am.  I have not been kissed in 14 days.  This is a very long time.  Brian and I have a pact that neither is allowed to leave the other without a kiss.  We kiss each other when I drop him off at work in the mornings.  We kiss when I leave to go to the grocery store.  We kiss when he gathers up his books to go to D&D.  We even kiss when we’re angry at each other, quick pecks followed by terse goodbyes.  That’s how much of a habit this has become. 

Cold sores are not something I would wish on anyone.  Kissing is out.  Instead, I’ve been pressing my cheek to his and giving him a hug, or fluttering my eyelashes against his cheek in a butterfly kiss.  It’s not the same.  At all.  In fact, it is decidedly unsatisfying.

Of all the annoyances I would expect of getting a cold sore, this is the one I would not have foreseen.  I’m much better now.  I promise.  I think I might even be safe to kiss again.  Maybe.  Probably.  Well, soon anyway.

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