Monday, February 21, 2011

Too late for you and your white horse : Day Sixteen

This will be the last of my pre-written 30 days. I think the first time I wrote it, I nailed it.

Day 16 – Your first kiss

I had kissed people before. Boys and girls. I had never been the type to think that boys had cooties. I was always the girl who had a "boyfriend" at school. What this meant was that we would hold hands while on the swing set, kiss each other on the cheek when no one else was looking, and if he was feeling nice he would give me some extra Halloween candy.

M was my on again off again boyfriend throughout elementary school and middle school. More than anything else he was my best friend. We would swim at the pool during the summer, and whenever I wasn't at my house it was a pretty sure bet that you would find me over at his. We dated for about nine months in 8th grade before he got tired of me and broke up with me via a handwritten note. No skin off my back, and we remained friends.

Our freshman year of high school, and our little group had remained pretty much unchanged. I had decided that if no one else asked me to the homecoming dance that I would see if M wanted to go. He had a learners driving permit by then, so when I asked him he eagerly agreed. I bought a pretty dress, had my hair all done up, and with his grandmother chaperoning in the backseat, he drove us to dinner and then to the dance. It was like it had always been, we just hung out. We had our pictures taken, which still to this day make me giggle because flat footed I was a good two inches taller than he was, but with my heels on I towered above him.

We hung out with friends and we danced. After the dance, his grandmother picked us up and he drove me back to my house.

He walked me inside, joking with my parents about how he had brought me home on time. As I walked him out to the backdoor, I leaned over and pecked him on the lips as I had done so many times before. Then I pulled away.

He pulled me back to him, and deepened the kiss. This probably lasted no more than a minute before he pulled away, pecked me on the lips and left.

I don't remember much of the kiss itself, I had nothing else to compare it to, but I do remember the feeling.

I then had to walk back through the living room where my parents were sitting watching television, and I felt like I was walking on air. I'm sure I had swollen lips and a smile plastered from ear to ear, not to mention the huge neon sign floating above my head that read "just been kissed!". But my parents never said anything and I wore that tingly, giggly feeling for a whole week before it faded.

M and I grew apart significantly after that. It was our first and last kiss until my 25th birthday, over ten years later.

But I will NEVER forget that feeling. Like you just put your finger too close to an electrical socket when it was damp, or how when you rub a balloon vigorously on your hair, or when someone gives you a deep tissue massage, or the second or two before an orgasm.

I think most of us spend a lot of our lives searching for the feeling of that first kiss.

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