My first kiss, if you fancy calling it that, was in the seventh or eighth grade.
Recess signaled its end with the shrill ring of a bell, but our game of “truth or dare” still had its remaining moments. Last minutely, someone in our group dared one of the boys to kiss me.
“Oh boy, it this how my first kiss is going to be?” I thought to myself. No sign of hesitance could be shown on my end. How silly would it be to tell the other thirteen and fourteen year olds that you wanted to hold out for that iconic first kiss? Like a child gathering all their gumption to show that they “are a big kid now,” I feigned the necessary nonchalance, playing off the dare as something barely worthy of its title.
And like a vaccination, the kiss was over with before I could think otherwise. He simply grabbed me and landed a quick smooth – his lips on my teeth. So that was my glory-filed and moment-lasting first kiss.
Some odd amount of years later, when I was seventeen, I had my first boyfriend. There wasn’t much to really say about it except for that we somehow always wound up wearing outfits that matched in colour by coincidence.
I don’t remember a lot about our first date aside from the fact that it was when I had first started driving, so when I pulled my car to the side of the road to pick him up, it was more or less situated in the middle of the road.
Everything in between is a bit of a blur, though I can recite, like a narrator to a teen romantic comedy, what happened leading up to my first kiss.
He had asked me if I would be his girlfriend as we lay atop the roof of my car listening to Snow Patrol’s “Chasing Cars.” I suppose that was one’s post-Grease way to ask someone to go steady in suburbia. My heart fluttered a bit before I decidedly added a thick layer of awkwardness by kidding that it wasn’t official unless it was on Facebook. To add context, he really wasn’t a fan of Facebook, and I doubt that he is even to this day.
I drove the car home around the meandering corners to his house to drop him off for the evening. Unbuckling his seatbelt, he paused for a moment before saying, “I think this is where I kiss you.” This was certainly anything but Grammy-award winning stuff, right here.
And he leaned in, with eyes closed and all, and then here it came – I burst out laughing. The whole night and scene was just too funny in its entirety to be taken seriously. Here I was, working through a scripted mess of teenage clichés except I was driving the car, not him.
So what resulted was the most awkward of kisses after I stopped my fit of giggles. I’m not even sure how you would describe it – I won’t even bother trying.
In the end, I suppose that the first “first” kiss was no better than the first one. At least I wound up with two short (hopefully amusing) stories to tell.
For the curious, that relationship didn’t last very long anyway.
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