A few days ago I ended up in a conversation with some friends about each of our first kisses (I really can’t remember how we got on the topic, but the nostalgia factor was high and it was kind of fun to reminisce). And it got me thinking – how significant is a first kiss. Can it actually serve as an example (or even blueprint) to how we approach relationships and romance in the future? I ask this because one of my friends – who remembers her first kiss as being very romantic – has always had very good and romantic relationships; in fact, she’s the only one of the group who is married (happily it seems). While I on the other hand…
You know what, let’s break down my first kiss for you. However a disclaimer to begin: I’m not counting the cute little pecks I had with the neighbor boy when I was 6 – we had no idea what we were doing, and they were (obviously) in no way ‘adult’ kisses. What I’m talking about, for the purposes of this post (and theory), is my first remotely sexual (type) KISS. Which I guess for me happened in the 7th or 8th grade (shut up, no matter what you say everything before that was child’s play).
The scene – a party at my friend Viv’s house (a HUGE place with a game room in the basement). The crowd – all the ‘cool kids.’ I was there, and so was Dave. Dave was the king of our grade – he was Mr. Cool, all the guys looked up to him, and all the girls had crushes on him. Including, I’m embarrassed to admit, me.
Anyway, after playing a game of pool (I sucked then and I suck now), we somehow ended up under the pool table flirting. I was psyched to be the girl that he seemingly wanted (hey, at that age there’s cache in that), and when he suggested we wander upstairs to Viv’s room to ‘check it out,’ I was more than willing to go along.
Once upstairs he wasted no time in moving in for the kill. BAM! There he was, on my face, mouth WIDE open, doing a very adolescent and inexperienced (although I didn’t realize it at the time) version of the French kiss. It was…wet. I actually remember thinking, ‘Okay, so I guess this is it. I wonder how long we need to do this for?’
It turns out the answer to that question was: a long time. I’m talking over an hour of mouths wide open, tongues moving, a little hand movement, and sheer boredom on my part. I never once stopped thinking and lost myself in the moment (how could I?). In fact, after about 10 minutes I stopped trying to keep my eyes closed and opened them to see if there was anything interesting to look at to keep myself entertained – turns out the tv was on and I could see it over his shoulder; I’m not embarrassed to admit I watched it for as long as I could without getting caught. After some more time had passed I pondered the fact that my jaw was starting to ache from being held open for so long, and I also spent some time trying to figure out a way to detach him for a couple seconds so I could wipe my mouth (he was slobbering all over me).
At no point did I think the kiss was romantic.
But you know, even then I was analytical about it. I wasn’t disappointed because it wasn’t a fairy tale, I didn’t fancy myself as in love with him, I was just…realistic about the whole thing. It was what it was; he was a really cute, popular guy, I wanted to learn about kissing, and it wasn’t painful or bad or anything, it was just…strange. Kind of funny too (if a guy isn’t doing it for me, to this day my internal monologue at least keeps things interesting and lighthearted – if not hot).
After that night, Dave and I were kind of a couple (off and on) for the rest of the school year. Eventually his family moved away, and I never really saw or thought much about him again. But when we all talked about our first kisses last week, I was surprised to find I still remembered the night pretty well. And while I’ve certainly had more experienced men in my life since then (obviously), I found that my detachment, my matter-of-fact attitude about men and relationships and the…physical nature of relationships – well, it all started back then. I think.
I don’t know, I imagine a lot of this is just my personality – I’m not a crier, I’m not clingy, and I’ve always enjoyed space and my independence, so maybe my first kiss has nothing to do with the kind of relationships I look for and have today; but it’s a theory I’m working on and I wanted to throw out there all the same.
So what about you guys? Do you see a parallel between your first kiss and your love life now. Or ever? Does it just take the right person to snap you out of it (if, in fact, you ever needed to be ‘snapped out of it’)? Talk to me people.