If you’ve been with me for a few years, you know I’m in good company on Thursdays. Check out this fantastic group of ladies, giving insight on various topics. Click on:
Froggie (Tracey): One frog’s distinct voice on the world around her.
Merry Land Girl (Melissa): Tales of a suburban mom who likes to talk about pop culture, books, Judaism, family, friendship and anything else that comes to mind.
Darwin Shrugged (Denise): Civilized Observations in an Uncivilized World
I had a few topic ideas for this week, but nothing that really stood out for me. I asked my husband for an idea, and he suggested, “That First Kiss…”. So, I went for it.
An ex told me once that after he’d met me for the very first time, one of his first impressions was that “I’d been kissed a lot”. I’m sure he meant that in a way that had nothing to do with kissing, and everything to do with what went beyond kissing. He was partially right. I’d had a lot of first-kiss experiences, and often left it at that.
I put a lot of emphasis on how I felt with that first kiss. Once, I’d kissed a guy who was gorgeous, popular, and someone I felt I needed to be attracted to because everyone (included him) told me I should be. But, when our lips met, I felt absolutely nothing. There was no spark. Needless to say, that was the one and only kiss.
Another time, I kissed someone because I wanted to see what it would feel like. There was no other reason, other than that. And it was nice, but nothing either of us wanted to entertain again. We decided it was best to remain friends, and leave it at that.
My first kiss happened when I was six. It was with the neighbor boy, and he smooshed his lips onto mine, imitating what he’d seen on t.v. I remember we both started laughing afterwards, because neither of us understood what the appeal was. It seemed really silly.
Then there was the first “real” kiss, referencing the title of this post, which I borrowed from Honey, I Shrunk the Kids. I was sleeping over at a friend’s house, and we snuck out in the early morning hours to meet some guy friends of hers, who lived down the street. I found myself locked inside a mini-van with a really cute guy, and even though the kissing was nice, it still didn’t feel right. Afterwards, I told my friend I’d never kiss again unless it was someone I was completely and totally in love with.
Which led me to my first boyfriend. Ours was a very interesting, funny experience. We both had chewing gum in our mouths, so we spit the gum out in opposite directions, almost as though it was choreographed, before we locked lips. Just the image of that still makes me laugh to this day, and I think it’s a great way to remember that time in my life.
I’ve had some great first kisses, and not so great ones, as well. Like the guy who had the skinniest lips and would pucker up before going in for the kill. Or the one who smoked cigarettes and had eaten a bag of Doritos.
I’ve known my husband for so long, and he knows everything about me, including my kissing history. He also knew the importance I place on the emotions, the chemistry on that first kiss, which made him incredibly nervous when we had our own.
We’ll be married seven years this year, so it’s safe to say, that first kiss went very well, and even though it sounds cliche, there are many times where it feels as though we’re having our first kiss, again, and yet it’s better, because we know each other so well and are so comfortable with one another. When you’re with the person you love, it makes it all the more worthwhile.