“Better be left by twenty dears
Than lie in a loveless bed;
Better a loaf that’s wet with tears
Than cold, unsalted bread.”
-"The Whistling Girl," Dorothy Parker
Is there anything more imperative to our young developing libidos than that awkward, self-searching first kiss? The first big foray into the exciting, confusing world of teenage lust. The first taste of someone else. The first totally icky feeling of someone slobbering all over your face. It's nothing short of perfection.
My first kiss happened when I was sixteen. I was the last girl in my class to kiss someone. My friends had all had previous junior high boyfriends/love of their lives. I was (and I feel still am) chronically single. So I lacked the opportunity to lock lips with a fine strapping young lad. My friends felt it was sacrilege for a young lady such as myself to have turned sixteen and never shared an intimate smooch fest. I wasn't so worried about it. I mean, I figured that one day some schmuck would be desperate enough to lay some sugar on me. My friends on the other were super concerned and felt the need to take matters into their own hands. Which is where our story begins....
A girl in my class was having a Sweet Sixteen birthday party. It included her parents renting us a limo to ride around town in and then having a bonfire out at her house where we would spend the night. It was a fun, good time. There was lots of caffeine guzzling, giggling. singing, dancing and typical teenage girl behaviors.
This girl had a cousin from another town who met up with us and went back to the bonfire with us. He was cute and charming. All the girls had a crush on him. I'd never met him before, but I had to agree with all the girls. When we got to the bonfire, me and cousin flirted a bunch. Basic teenage stuff. Immature joking and giggling. Sitting on each other laps. The usual.
This is where my friends intervened. They saw this golden opportunity for me to have my first kiss. So, they started to lay the ground work for me. Which included them coming up to me and said boy and told him how I'd never been kissed. That he should probably just go ahead and kiss me. They also decided to position his arm around me and have us hold hands. It was all real subtle. And it embarrassed me sooooooooo much. I was pretty much the color of a tomato after their little intervention. I knew they meant well, but how freaking awkward is that? I knew I wasn't a pro at the art of seduction, but I felt like I could have got him to lean in without their invitation to do so.
Well, after my friends ran away, he asked me if that was true. I said yes, but that I didn't expect him to kiss me or anything. That my friends were just being conniving. He just said he was surprised no one had ever kissed me before because I was really pretty. (awww..) We were sitting on my friend's couch inside. We were holding hands and he had his arm around me. My hormones were going out of control. Every nerve in my body was on edge. I had butterflies super bad. The anticipation was KILLING me. While I was lost in my own teenage lust purgatory, my friends had positioned themselves outside the window. We were sitting there for what felt like eternity not really saying anything. But then eternity and silence was broken by one of my friends yelling "Kiss her already!" through the window. I heard them giggle then run off. I turned super red again. And then he said, well, they have a point and he leaned in a kissed me.
I could tell immediately that I was a huge fan of kissing. It felt like little explosions were going off everywhere. It wasn't too sloppy or wet. It was awkward of course. But overall, a big thumbs up. The first initial kiss quickly led to a million kisses. We made out and cuddled. The next morning we kissed each other good bye. I knew we wouldn't date or anything. I knew it was a one time thing. Which sounds pretty slutty of me. But I think there are just instances when we all need someone for an experience. As long as both parties are willing and fully aware, I don't see much wrong.
I never really talked to this guy again after he laid one on me. The only time I saw him after our brief teenage affair was at a high school track meet a year later. He walked by me then stopped, came back and asked, do I know you? I said, oh, yeah. I go to school with your cousin. He said...oh yeah! We totally made out at her party. Then I turned red, giggled, and said yes. That was it.
I read something once in Psychology Today that said first experiences frame our personal narratives for the rest of our lives. It's how we perceive ourselves in our minds, the part we play in following kissing matches. Which I can see. I've always been the passive, demure girl. Waiting to be kissed. Waiting for someone else to make the first move because I'm not experienced or because that's how I just saw myself. The kissee not the kisser.
But after years of playing this part, I've decided to try on a different role. Inexperienced I am no longer. I've waited long enough for the guy to make the move, being disappointed when he failed to. I've started to take a more active role in my love life. Passive schmassive. Action is now my middle name.
The transition is weird. I do kind of feel like I'm playing a part when I make the first move or do something because, well, I want to and there's no reason I shouldn't. But ultimately, I am happier. I'm learning to listen to what I want. It's a liberating feeling.
I feel like Dorothy would be proud of me. She was never one to patiently sit in the back being demure. She was the type of gal that saw what she wanted and went after it.
And that's what I want, too. No more relying on my friends to set me up. Or for a man to make the first move. I'm out to experience life, for better or worse.
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