I was somewhere in the Blogosphere reading about first kisses today. I can’t remember the blog, but if it was yours, step forward and claim your prize (read: e-hug) for inspiring this post. Her post got me thinking about my own first kisses: the good, the bad and the ugly.
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The Ugly: My very first kiss turned me off of kissing for a while. I think it was the summer between grade school and high school. Charlie was a cute guy, though kind of dumb. Sorry Charlie, but Metallica is NOT the best band ever. What did I see in him? Anyway, our kiss was pretty random. It was unexpected and wet. Ew. It was very sloppy and I remember walking away, wiping my face with my sleeve. I could smell his breath on me still. Ew. Yeah, thanks buddy.
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The Bad: There were a couple more sloppy kissers to follow. What is it with guys thinking we want our faces devoured? I don’t get it. More spit doesn’t make me want you more. There was one guy who refused to take gum. His favorite chips were Cool Ranch Doritos. You know where this is going right? I tried my best to subtly hint to him that his breath was offensive. I offered him gum and mints. He’d never take it. Finally I told him yo, your breath stinks man. He didn’t take it well. I’m pretty sure we broke up over that.
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There’s awkward gross and then there’s awkward cute. Cute happened during my sophomore year of high school. I don’t know why we were playing truth or dare or seven minutes in heaven, but we were. I was dared to kiss Joe. Now I was ridiculously shy. No super fuck yeah going on back then. When I heard my dare I turned bright red and looked away. I made eye contact with no one. It’s as if someone asked me to kick a puppy or pee into a cup without wetting my hand. I eventually backed out of my dare and moved right along. Some how, we ended up being paired up for seven minutes in heaven (which I’ll never understand as the girl pairing us up did it intentionally, then got pissed at me when I started dating him. Wtf?) Anyway, so we’re in this dark bathroom. He said I owed him a kiss and we went in for the kill. His chin met my nose. His lips rubbed chapstick on my forehead. There was nothing romantic about this. When we finally did kiss, all I could think about was how bad his chapstick tasted. Needless to say this wasn’t the best kiss of my life, but I guess it wasn’t too bad. We dated for two years after that.
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The Good: My best kiss happened to be a first kiss. I don’t want to inflate his ego as I’m not really a big fan at the current time, but it was with the whatcha-mah-call-it. I can’t believe we’re back to calling it this (That’s my way of saying I don’t know what the hell we’re doing; if we are broken up or still together.) I remember drinking lemon-flavored water after chewing a mint and having a funny taste in my mouth right before we kissed. I remember him asking if he could. I remember my hands shaking, my face was bright red, I was sweating but I was cold. No heads butting, noses getting smashed or chins colliding. It wasn’t sloppy or unnecessarily wet. It was gentle, yet passionate. Sweet, but aggressive. I forgot all about being nervous. It was one of those perfect moments where everything around you stops, if only for a couple of seconds.
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I used to love thinking back to this moment. I would replay it in my head at night when I missed him. I enjoyed remembering details of the first time we met and fell asleep thinking about how happy I was.
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I’m still not at peace with this though. I know one day I’ll be able to look back on it and feel good that I actually had a perfect first kiss with someone who made my world stand still. But right now, I just miss it. It doesn’t bring me the comfort it once did. I feel sad rather than happy. I question how the same person who kissed me then and made me weak in the knees could be the same one to break my heart.
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It’s funny how those perfect kisses don’t necessarily promise a perfect ending.

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