Kisses

I have a secret. I haven’t told anyone about this. Which is weird, because thinking on it, it makes for a pretty good story. The secret, is that I don’t know the name of my first kiss. For some reason this fact has bothered me. I literally haven’t told anyone. Everything led me to believe that it was some magical moment that you’d hold dear for the rest of your life. And I’d never found out who I’d shared the moment with. It was middle school, a time of faux responsibilities, raging hormones, and academic mediocrity. The highlight of middle school were definitely the dances. At dances, kids played at being adults and teens. In addition the blaring dance music with beats that shook the gym and the crowd of people created a cathartic environment full of abandon that was matched by little else in the school year.

It was at one such dance, where I kissed someone for the first time. After breaking out moves for that would make Michael Jackson jealous(I’m kidding, I couldn’t, and still can’t, dance), I found myself still standing near a girl that I had spent most of the dance talking to. In a poor attempt to cover up an awkward silence, I came out with the fated lines.

“Let’s kiss,” I suggested.

“Okay,” she replied.

She started to lean in, and I felt my brain go into overdrive. I thought things like,

“That actually worked?”

“Wait, won’t our noses hit?”

“What shape should my mouth be in?”

I didn’t really think it this far through, of the consequences if she said yes to my request, because I assumed she would say no. In fact, my question was more of a joke. Nevertheless, unexpected or not, she had agreed and so I committed to it. I wanted my first kiss to be at least sorta decent.

Our lips met, and the rapid fire thoughts continued. (Our noses didn’t hit)

“Her lips are rough”

“Are mine rough?”

“Her hands are on my neck. Where do my hands go?”

“How long will this last?”

“Can I leave now? Or is that rude?”

“I smell strawberries,”

I became somewhat aware of my surroundings. I saw a classmate walk by with a surprised look on his face. He smiled and gave me two thumbs up. I focused back on her face.

“Her eyes are closed, why?”

“Should I close my eyes?”

She pulled away

“That was nice,” she said.

Dazed, I responded with a “Uh huh,”

She gave me a weird look.

We avoided each other for the rest of the dance.

But I thought the kiss was nice.

She was my first, and I was her’s, so it will always be a special moment. But it clearly wasn’t too special, because today, 6 years later, I don’t remember her name, only a vague recollection of what she looked like.

            I do remember, thinking afterwards at home, how I, or anyone could even think about kissing in a positive, let alone romantic light. I mean, it’s kinda disgusting, you put your mouth on someone else, then sometimes, put your tongue in their mouth, and your saliva mixes with their saliva. Bleh. What if they had a cold? It’s all horribly unsanitary. You don’t see animals doing it. Even they seem to understand that other mouths should not be near or on top of their own. There are some scientific papers that try to explain the existence of kissing. They claim that kissing is a way for two people to use taste and smell to carry out a quick biological compatibility test on a potential partner. I guess it’s not something that should be analyzed as such.

Kissing is weird, but it’s human. And that’s beautiful. I guess. I mean. I’ll keep doing it. But, still’s weird.