They say you can tell if someone's a good kisser by how they eat an apple, and I think I buy into that, because I'm afraid of eating apples and I'm afraid of kissing.
I can't explain the kissing thing, so I'll talk about the apples.
Leftover from my days of a mouth filled with braces, I remain hesitant and anxious at the prospect of biting into an apple. I can only imagine the pain as the fruit catches against the metal and my teeth are brutally and rapidly pulled toward my bottom jaw. I can't say why this thought has stayed with me for all these years, but as it stands I still cannot enjoy the fruit unless it is carefully and strategically cut into bite-size pieces.
As for kissing, I can't decide if I am more afraid of the person or the act involved.
