My First Kiss

Thursday, March 31, 2011
My first kiss.  Ah, we all remember it, don't we?  For me, it was back in grade 9 or 10 (I was a late bloomer).  I was either 13 or 14.  My best friend back then, Mandy, had moved to Winnipeg with her family and my parents thought I was mature enough to visit her.  I spent a day and a half on the Greyhound bus (I don't recommend this) to get there from our small town.  It was a great week.  I felt so grown up and that I had travelled so far!  In my mind, I could do anything.  My visit with Mandy was a week filled with firsts:  the first time I travelled by myself; the first time I visited a "big city"; the first time I rode a city bus; and my first kiss.

"First Kiss" by Coach the French (courtesy of Flickr)
 Who was the lucky devil, you ask?  He was a skinny, slightly awkward boy named Mike Campbell.  I remember he had glasses and that he was taller than me.  Mandy was always a bit ahead of the pack when it came to dating and making out and all that sex type stuff; we met up with her boyfriend and his friend (Mike) after I'd been in town for a few days.  We had great fun, wandering around downtown Winnipeg, riding the bus, goofing around as only teenagers can do.  Watching Mandy make out with her boyfriend as we sat at the back of the bus, I felt very adventurous and remember putting my hand on Mike's knee.  This encouraged him to put his arm around my shoulders.  Just then, Mandy noticed us and started teasing us.  I was so embarassed.  Imagine being laughed at by a couple of pimple faced teens wearing braces.  Yeah, horrifying. 

We finally made it back to her neighbourhood and the boys walked us home.  True to form, Mandy and her boyfriend began sucking face as if they were drowning.  Apparently, this inspired Mike to finally give it a go.  He practically grabbed me and planted one square on the lips before I knew what was happening.  All was going well until he decided to force feed me his tongue.  I pulled back and said "Whoa, big fella. Put it back in the holster".  Yes, even back then I was a wise-ass.

I think he scarred me for life.  It was a few years until my next kiss (some random military guy who invited my girlfriend and I back to the barracks to "talk" after making out with me and stealing my gum!) and to this day, I am not a fan of French-kissing.  And before you start telling me I'm doing it wrong or I just haven't been kissed properly, I have and I'm a pretty fine kisser.  I just don't enjoy it all that much, thank you very much.  So, future dates, potential boyfriends and (god-forbid) possible mates, please don't try to give my teeth a tongue-cleaning when you kiss me.  You'll end up on the receiving end of one of my many witty one-liners.

2 comments:

Wandering Coyote said...

What a lovely story - so evocative of awkward teen love. Thanks for sharing!

And I'm not the biggest fan of French kissing, either, just to let you know.

Kasia said...

Didn't think coyotes french-kissed. Interesting... ;)

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