The First

I had my first open-mouth kiss when I was 9. Kind of funny story, actually. It was this boy, Troy, about my age who lived upstairs. I remember him being blond, blue-eyed, and adorable. I had a big crush on him. We became friends and one afternoon, we were upstairs at his house watching T.V. together. The Dukes of Hazzard came on, a show I can't stand now but loved back then. In the opening montage, there's a brief scene of one of the Hazzard guys kissing a woman. I turned to Troy and suggested we try kissing like that. The kissing was obviously very grown up, and therefore different and exotic.

As these things go, Troy agreed. I don't remember if his parents were home, but his little brother, probably about six years old, was. We had that innate knowledge that what we were about to do was private and probably not something adults would approve of, so we closed and locked the door. It's like his little brother had a locked door radar, because not long after, he came pounding and screaming to be let in. The doors in those condos could be unlocked by inserting a nail into the hole on the outside, pushing, and popping the lock out. His brother must have done this, because I remember having to put things in front of the door to keep him from coming in. Of course, the more we tried to keep him out, the more he wanted in. It was a huge fight of wills.

Somehow, amidst all the struggling to keep the door shut, we kissed. Our mouths met, open. It's funny to me because at that age, neither of us had the slightest clue about kissing that way, and that people generally use their tongues. I'm not sure, but I think if we'd known that, we probably would have been really grossed out. So the kiss was essentially us standing there, trying our best to emulate the kissing we'd seen on the show. Heads moving back and forth, mouths open and together, and our teeth mashing together painfully. I remember the teeth the most, that it hurt when we'd hit them together. When we pulled apart, we both were a little confused as to why that was supposed to have been so enjoyable. I doubt it occurred to either of us that maybe we weren't doing it correctly.

Not until I got into my 20's did I consider that my first kiss, probably because there's somewhat of an obsession with kissing throughout puberty. I didn't count it because there'd been no tongue, which, in my young mind, properly defined a "real" kiss.

In 7th grade, everyone I knew was overly preoccupied with being kissed, myself included. I was not a popular kid, and finding a kissing partner wasn't easy. I zeroed in on the geekiest, most unpopular kid in my class, who was so awkward and out of place on so many levels that even teachers would sort of pick on him. I figured if I asked him to kiss me, there was no way he'd say no. I remember him always having a runny nose and I thought he was gross, but I wanted to get it over with. So one day, I cornered him and asked him to meet me after school to kiss. He agreed, as I figured he would. I didn't want anyone to know I was stooping to that low of a level, lest I be made fun of any more than I already was, so we arranged a somewhat secluded meeting spot.

We did meet after school, but nothing ever happened. I didn't really want to kiss him, because, well, he was gross, and though I tried, I couldn't pressure or bully him into making the move. He was geeky, shy, and chicken. I remember thinking that if he wouldn't kiss me, and after all I was doing him a favor, right?, that I was doomed. Some time later that year, another one of the school misfits, an 8th grader, showed an interest in me and started hanging out with me in the cafeteria. I had another glimmer of hope, even though, again, I wasn't all that into him.

I used to ride my bike home from school, and one afternoon at the bike racks, I ran into this guy. We talked, and he ended up kind of following me home. On the walk home with him, he asked if he could be my boyfriend. I was 11, so laugh all you want. I said yes, thinking surely this meant I'd have my first kiss now! We ended up hanging out at my house for a while, where he met my parents (thinking back on this guy, I have to wonder what my dad thought of him). Then we went outside to "walk", which was of course code for "find a private place to kiss". We walked across the way where it was dark, and stood next to the cinderblock wall that marked the perimeter of the apartment complex.

What happened next was nothing short of pure, romantic magic. I jest, of course. It's somewhat comedic in kind of an embarrassing way. I was leaning against the wall while talking to him, and he asked me something like, "So you like it up against the wall, huh?" What the hell does that mean, anyway? But I was a little turned on because I knew what was coming, and I said yes. He then put one hand on the wall behind me, leaned forward, and kissed me.

I'd like to say it was great, but I remember it was slimy and his mouth tasted like the Christmas candy he'd eaten at my house. When it was over, I was elated that I'd finally been kissed, and feeling rather awkward about having to deal with this big lunk who'd followed me home. We wandered around a bit more, and he kissed me two more times. Somewhere in there, he told me he loved me. I think even then, I knew it was bullshit, that he thought that's what he was supposed to say to a girl. Because it was dark, he ended up leaving for home not that long after, and I was left a mess of guilt, relief, confusion, disgust, and elation. I had to sit through dinner with my parents afterward and I'm surprised they didn't ask me what the hell was wrong with me.

I've been keeping diaries and journals since I was 8. I don't have a date on the entry after my first "real" kiss, but since I was 11 and it was near enough to Christmas to have candy out, I'll say it probably was early-to-mid November, 1988. I dug out the diary and here is my priceless entry regarding this momentous occasion:

Dear Diary,
I actually got a boyfriend! He asked me! He kissed me 3 times. French! I don't really like him. Only as a friend, though. I didn't like the kisses. They were so disgusting. I can imagine kissing a guy I like and liking it. I'm going to tell him that I don't want to kiss anymore. If he asks any questions, I'll tell him if he says that's what going out is about, than I'll break up. I'll have to write a note. I couldn't face him.

More reports later,
A

So there you have it. The saga of my first kiss(es). Fortunately, the whole kissing thing has since improved. Not only do I find myself kissing people I want to kiss, I like it ever so much more than I used to!