I read somewhere that once a chess player touches a piece he must move that piece. That is a rule of the game. A chess master once said there are times when you can ponder a move for thirty minutes but once you touch the piece, you see everything in front of you in that second. You see your mistake and all your opponent’s counter moves that will destroy you in that second. But it’s too late. You have to move. The judges are always looking over your shoulder. You HAVE TO MOVE! He said he was competing in a tournament once and there was a player from a South American country who touched a piece and then shot back in his chair as if he had been electrocuted. The realization of his mistake and the consequences that awaited him were that powerful. With his face red in embarrassment, he touched the piece again and moved it against his will. He was defeated a few minutes later. I don’t play chess. I don’t know the first thing about chess. But there have been times when I’m on a date and I think about saying certain things to her all night and try to anticipate what she might say in response. Then I ponder my response to her response. I think about holding her hand and try to anticipate what her hand might do in that second. If he she pulls her hand away, I tell myself, I have to think up something to say to defuse the awkwardness of her rejection. Above all, I think about kissing her and anticipate what her reaction might be. Is the risk worth the reward? If I’m rejected, that pretty much ends everything. There’s no coming back from it. Have I waited long enough to try a kiss? This is our third date after all and she’s laughed tonight more than the other two nights combined. The last time I was on a date, I kissed her in front of her door and the moment my lips touched her lips, I too wanted to shoot back in fear. I saw five moves ahead, and then twenty moves ahead in that one kiss. I saw my mistake and the deadly consequences that awaited me. It was as if that chess master appeared behind her and laid out all her baggage at her feet. I stared at her baggage in horror as my tongue dutifully wrestled with her tongue in a match I was certain to lose.