It had only been the second week of college and a beast known as ones first kiss continued to breathe down my neck. I walked the campus quietly searching for answers in each persons face. Was it odd that I had never even attempted to kiss someone? Was it unusual that it had never really crossed my mind until I had reached adulthood? And the sudden realization that everyone else around me had experienced it scared the shit out of me. These feelings could only be explained by the sudden feeling that someone was interested in me, and I knew that could only lead to one thing.
I had initially met his friend while at a dance. I aggressively and suggestively danced with, what I later came to find out was a very recently returned missionary. Needless to say the very attractive one that I had danced with was not the one that really (as it seemed to me) fell for me. Although the story with this kid later becomes quite the entanglement in itself (of course for a later time). Anyway, my dance moves may have shocked the return missionary enough to fear me but certainly not enough to forget about me. I later was introduced to his friend that eagerly went everywhere with him. Almost like an odd but still funny side-kick. This side-kick was incredibly charming, but strange. The oddness actually became one of his best features along with his dazzling grill of front teeth. Because I was a naïve little girl from a rather sheltered background (well except the whole my sister being on drugs all the time thing), when I continually ran into the man with the wonderful smile I began thinking that fate had brought us together (god just the thought makes me gag violently…I truly was an idiot).
The story continues with texting and talking to each other often in the school’s campus lounge. Flirtatious banter filled the dingy room, strangling any possibility of actually studying. Then one night as I lay strewn across my friend’s nasty apartment carpet my phone lit up and shook fiercely. I quickly snatched the phone and flipped the cover open (yes because I had a piece of shit phone…laugh it up chuckles). The screen flashed with a new text message from, as he would later be known as “Douche Daniel”. The message said, “Hey, wanna make out?” The first thing to happen was that I tossed the phone a short distance from me while I thought. My emotions went wild. Shock, fear, anger, shock again, and then an odd sense of clarity. I had no real attachments to said individual in fact at the time I didn’t even really like him. Suddenly a plan took a hold of me that now I wish I had never conceived. Why could I not at least kiss this individual just to have it be said and done? My first kiss would be filed away like last year’s school pictures only to be brought out and looked at or remembered for a second.
Long story short we met up in a school parking lot fifteen minutes later. I in my recently purchased F-250 truck and he on a small blue scooter he borrowed from a friend to cruise around town. We anxiously chatted for sometime before he began speaking in Spanish ( a language I should know since I spent most of my childhood summers in Mexico, but of course only managed to learn to count to ten and ask where the bathroom was). We eventually left each other without even touching. I was angry at his being such a pansy. Not two seconds later I received yet another text that said, “I really, really wanted to kiss you.” (And now queue the vomiting). I angrily wrote back, “Well I don’t live with regrets.” He of course took that as a challenge which then really had me frightened.
We were once again on for this kiss…I drove around frantically worrying what my breath smelled like and if I was going to get all sweaty because of the nerves. I cranked the AC and made a real quick stop into a Maverick where I purchased a large pack of Big Red gum. I demolished multiple pieces in hopes of that my entire mouth would have a coating of cinnamon that would wow and take away from my lack of experience.
I drove to the location and parked like a sixteen year old that had never parked before, scurried to the tailgate of my truck where I laid it down and quickly hurled myself onto its rippled edge to sit and wait. While I was waiting I reviewed e-mails I had received using my shitty little phone, then I heard him approach, stop, and kill the engine. I continued to act completely engrossed in my phone as if I were studying for some insurmountable exam. He leapt onto a spot next to me, where I then explained that we were sitting on my truck (uhhh duh!). Before I knew what was happening he full on jammed his gargantuan, slimy, and forceful tongue into my mouth. It was one of the worst experiences of my life; I later learned using other males instead of this idiot that he was to blame not me. In fact I’m complimented often on my amazing technique which only makes me blush and laugh coyly.
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As his tongue continued to do somersaults and back hand springs along my hard palate, I caught myself thinking how awful it really was but how wonderful the cinnamon tasted. Odd, I know. I remember driving off that night hopelessly confused as to how that was any fun. I swore I was going to gag at any moment during the process. I should have taken this experience and ran with it, far, far, away from him but of course I spent my freshman year and even some of my sophomore year over thinking each conversation and of course this night until I swore I had every moment we ever had together memorized. I was strung along by him for a long time even though I knew deep down he was never anything I was honestly interested in, it just seemed like the normal thing to do.
I later found out he was far more bizarre then I had ever given him credit for and actually quite dangerous. He’s currently on a ton of drugs and still finds reasons to approach me while on campus when really I just want to act like we never met. Maybe some other time I’ll take a moment to detail the terrible things he did and how I just kept going back like one of those battered women I said I would never be. But, honestly after lamenting this memory and him I’m rather bored. I just needed to tell this tale to get it off my chest.
In short, my first kiss did not teach me how to kiss, it did not lead to some wonderfully romantic relationship filled with fun and respect, and it didn’t get me any closer to feeling more like an adult. Rather, my first kiss reminded me to begin picking up Big Red gum at the convenience stores once in awhile. That shit is awesome.
