On the way home from the gym this morning, my friend and I ended up talking about first kisses. This, because my son has been asking me about kissing girls, when he should and what to expect. (I love that he will talk to me about it!)
My friend told me about her tragic first kiss. She was at a dance and her boyfriends friends planned the whole thing. They had arranged for a car to be in the parking lot and sent her out to meet him in the car. Awkard!!! She said it all felt forced, embarrassing and not at all nice to remember.
I felt bad for her because mine *sigh* was out of this world.
I was a 15 year old Sophomore and he was an 18 year old senior.
(That makes for the best combination ever if you ask me! He knew what he was doing and I was glad!)
He had been a good friend of my brother's so I had known him for several years. Which means he had known me as a really tall, skinny eleven year old with teeth too big for my face, elbows and knees that were everywhere and a few band-aids here and there.
I was quite the ugly duckling growing up, but something magical happened the summer before my sophomore year. The braces came off, my hair had grown down my back from the gross perm that forced me to cut it very short, the acne was gone and I no longer tripped over myself everywhere I went. The boys started to notice me, but I was still oblivious to it. The attention I mean, not the boys. I had had a crush on this boy or that since fifth grade, but they never noticed me back until that wonderful year, so I didn't really know what it was that they were all doing until someone pointed it out to me.
I got asked to homecoming by a boy that I didn't know at all, but I was thrilled. My dress was pink and I couldn't wait to wear it. I was in the bathroom in a t-shirt and cut off shorts, getting ready for the big night. My hair was up in hot rollers all over my head and while standing tip toed I applied the finishing touches to my lipgloss. That was when my brother and his friends came rushing in to start getting ready for their dates. One of his friends in particular started to tease me about the rollers and chased me around a bit trying to get a rise out of me. I didn't really care that they saw me like that, I had known them all so long.
The dance was fine but I didn't ever go out with that boy again. Let's just say that this friend of my brother's took over very quickly after that night in the bathroom.
He was so good to me.
After a couple of dates he walked me to my door, smiled, tilted his head down and kissed me. Simply that. No awkward pause, no awkward where do I put my hands and arms type of thing. He just bent down, kissed me and said good night. Oh was I on cloud nine!!!
But wait! It gets better!
A few weeks later we were at a friends house in the basement trying to figure out a show to watch when our friends ran upstairs to make popcorn leaving us alone. We talked for a bit when he got a phone call. He ran upstairs to take it, but returned just a minute later. He came into the room, smiled at me, put one hand on my cheek, lifted my chin and kissed me gently. Then his lips parted, my heart pounded and I tasted the sweetness of watermelon. That beautiful boy! I don't know if he planned it or not, but he ate the most wonderful watermelon before coming down the stairs and to me it was the syrup of the gods! There was no slurping or slopping, just soft and gentle kisses standing in the basement. Our friends came running down the stairs and rather that jumping away embarrassed he put his arm around my shoulders, gave me a squeeze and we spent the rest of the night doing who knows what! I don't remember the rest because I could think of nothing else!
I consider myself very fortunate that my first kisses were like the ones only dreamt about before they ever happened. You know the ones. They were the kind that happened in the movies and all of the girls went home at night and envisioned her first kiss to be just like the one that Blane gave Andie in Pretty In Pink or when Keith finally kisses Watts in Some Kind Of Wonderful.
Some girls have all the luck!
(Should I tell my son about the watermelon?)