Sheri posted about the topic of your first kiss recently. For some strange reason my awesome comments keep getting erased from her blog by her husband (?). So I thought I would dedicate my own delete-free and donkey loving space to the topic.
My first peckorama was in 1st grade in the bushes at the apartment complex we lived in. We were playing house- my idea of course so he could be the dad and I could be the mom. I totally set it up so I could 'kiss' him goodnight. He was a cute boy (kindergartener) and the only time I went for younger. He had straight brown bowl-cut hair and freckles like me. His family called him 'Bear' for some reason, I never knew his real name. He moved.
I don't recall who came next, but I do remember my first french kiss. 9th grade. He walked me home, Jason, and we held hands the whole time. We both had sweaty palms. He walked me home often, but I would usually rip my hand away and bolt to the door to avoid the kiss. I still wasn't sure I liked him that much, but since he was on the football team it seemed like I was supposed to like him. My friends were all excited to see when it would happen, I was excited to just get it over with so I could say it happened and the rite of passage/ milestone was behind me. Like all other teenage milestones, I seemed to be the last girl my age to experience this one.
I was incredibly delayed blooming in all regard. I don't believe I understood why anyone would want to make-out (let alone sex?!) until I was about 18. Lucky for my parents. Not so lucky for the poor boys who got to have the boring girlfriend that wanted to climb trees and play hop scotch. Although not really sad for them because even without hormones I was pretty awesome.
Back to Jason. The day it finally happened he stalled letting go of my hand in front of my house. Then he went in for it, hard. I felt him press his face into mine and he held me close into him firmly. It solidified what I was uncertain about- I officially decided right then that I didn't like him at all. And I certainly didn't like his fat, wet tongue pushing around in my virgin mouth. It was yucky. He was yucky. I broke away without a word and ran in to tell my sister.
I finally kissed a boy! I finally did it!
"So how was it?" she was all ears waiting for me to bask in the moment. I stop smiling and told her it was actually gross. It wasn't like the movies at all. He didn't take my breath away and there wasn't any magic or stars or anything fantastic about it. But hurrah for being over with it. She was confused, but turned her music back up and went about her homework after dutifully sharing that important sisterhood moment with me. I guess if I could sum it up today, I would say it was basically like a snake eating a mouse.
It's one of those things that torments you in Junior High- waiting for a milestone. You wonder what it's like. You know it will happen one day, you hear about everyone else experiencing it and wonder when your time will come. But I learned from it and I decided I wouldn't do a thing with a boy unless I was good and ready for it. And it would never be more or sooner than I wanted. Even the simple holding of hands was not to be a 'just because-why not' action on my part.
I don't know who was next or when, but the rest of the boys fell into various categories in how they approached the 'first kiss' in the dating scene with me. Some pressed their luck too early and that was no good. If they were too pushy too soon, I was all done. Some talked about it, which I think is romantic and respectful. I think I want to teach my boys to be sure verbally before pulling a Jason that first time. Some waited far too long, but then I would take matters into my own hands. Then it would be interesting to experience who would be shy about moving along at my lead and who would take the reigns and go crazy.
Mike was the latter and I loved it. It was like I gave him a little green light and then he took us into the fast lane I had been waiting for. With him anyway. The flood gates were down. He wanted me and I wanted him. There was no longer a question in either of our minds the moment our lips touched.
That first time was classic. We had been dating and hanging out a lot and for quite some time. He brought over Austin Powers to *watch* on the couch with me, my roommates were gone on their own dates. I think it was one of our first 'indoor' dates. Since we worked together and had a difference of opinion religion-wise I wasn't sure it was smart or productive to fall for him. So I was cautious. But man, was I ever interested in pushing him down to the ground and kissing him hard. Something about that boy drove me wild. It was like all that pent-up and delayed vigor exploded that year. That was much effort to contain for little miss liz. Especially around Mike.
We should just be friends. But man I really hope he kisses me. It would be bad to kiss and then work together like nothing ever happened. DANG he looks so good in his sweater. I know if we kiss it's going to get complicated. We will both want to kiss more and often.
I loved the gentle way his hand turned my chin so we could connect eyes as we snuggled on the couch. I loved the way we tangled up immediately like we were born to make out with each other. How natural it felt as if we were swimming together. I don't know why swimming explains it so well, but it was like we were weightless and magnetically connected at the same time. Even though our clothing was on (I swear!).
I stopped us for a moment for fear of a later broken heart. Or an awkward time at work. Or anything else you freak out about in the newer part of a relationship. But together we threw my concerns across the room and let them shatter. And proceeded swimming. Until one of my roommates unlocked the front door. Then we bolted upright as if we were enjoying the credits rolling up the t.v. screen of a movie we never saw.
