“Tell the story of a first kiss.” Oh, do I have to?? While I suspect that many first kisses are awkward, but I surely win the award for making an embarrassing fool of myself. To be honest, I don’t think I’m really that fond of kissing. Having someone that close to my face makes me very uncomfortable, and that discomfort makes me self-conscious and stiff.
My first proper kiss was when I was fifteen. I’d had a crush on a boy a year older than me for many months. While I obviously hoped he’d be interested in me, I don’t really think I believed it would happen. Eventually though he did ask me round to his house one evening to watch a film. Unfortunately we wouldn’t get that far.
I spent most afternoons at one of the many after school clubs in our high school. I knew he was at another meeting, so I loitered around the hallway hoping to casually run into him. (Why are our younger selves so embarrassing?) My plan was successful and we went for a wandering walk around the school.
He suggested we go down the stairs, which eventually lead to our cafeteria. I’d never actually used these stairs before, but saw no reason not to. Before the cafeteria were several small classrooms I’d never seen before, where the doors were set a couple of feet back, creating small alcoves. He stepped into one and called me over. In my naivety I thought he wanted to show me something posted on the door, so I was very surprised when he wrapped his arms around me.
I wish I could claim swish sophistication, but I can’t. When he kissed me...I blacked out. I assume I came back to my senses shortly after, at which point I thought “Oh my god, those are his lips!” and promptly blackout again. Eventually I somehow pull myself together and turn the kiss back into a hug. From there I make some excuses and beat a hasty retreat to the school theatre. My heart was racing as adrenaline rushed through my system, my hands shaking. A friend I ran into thought I’d taken some kind of drug. (Who knows why, as I never have.) I had just enough time to calm my nerves before my mother collected me from school, she luckily noticed nothing amiss. If you can’t guess I never went on the date. I couldn’t face him again after that.
While I’m not nearly as neurotic now, I don’t think I’ll ever escape that hint of panic I get with every kiss.