volume one hundred and forty-five
my first kiss
📍Written from Naarm (otherwise known as Melbourne) in an ergonomic office chair while the autumn sun through the glass doors behind me gradually warmed me from my hips up to my ears.
Will you go out with me?
Yes. No. Maybe.
(Circle one).
My only options. Scrawled into the hot pink pocket-sized notebook I carried around with me, asking all of my best, best friends — of which in hindsight were all my friends, so none were really the “best” were they? — to write me notes.
His note asked the ultimate question. Would I be his girlfriend? The choices to respond with were simple and limited. Even if they weren’t, would I have had the words to say what I wanted to?
I know I didn’t say yes right away. I can’t remember if I said no or ignored it until I thought everyone had forgotten about it. But I was not his girlfriend until months later when I had come around to the idea, and asked him to be my boyfriend by asking my friend to ask him and then deliver me his answer.
He said yes.
The same friend pushed often that if we were boyfriend and girlfriend, then what did that mean? Why was I doing it wrong? I wasn’t a good girlfriend. What was wrong with me? We didn’t hug. We didn’t hold hands. We didn’t kiss.
Kiss? There was no way I could hold his hand because mine were far too sweaty at the thought of a kiss. They got clammy thinking about the fact that I had a boyfriend, and how incorrect that felt. It didn’t fit. It didn’t make sense. It felt very wrong and made my stomach lurch every morning when I was waiting to see him when we lined up for class after the bell rang. I prayed, often, that he would be sick and not at school that day. Yet, I loved his company, very much, so what else would have been the logical step in our friendship other than to take it further? Isn’t that what I was supposed to do?
“You have to kiss, otherwise you are not really a couple,” she said and every single one of my other best friends agreed. They told me I had to. They told me that is what he was expecting. They told me he would break up with me if I didn’t. They told me I was frigid and I had to try and figure out what that meant without Google or Urban Dictionary or asking someone because I was too embarrassed to add another thing I had fallen behind my peers in knowing.
They kept at me and I kept imagining that he would break up with me if I didn’t. That would be so embarrassing. I wouldn’t handle the shame that came with that. Not again. So I said yes. I would do it. I would kiss him. I tried not to sob at the terrifying thought.
I tried to come up with excuses — after already having said yes — that made it appear that not going ahead was not because of me, but due to outside obstacles.
“But the teachers are always around and will see us and we will get in trouble.”
“We will do it by the hall in the corner and we will all stand around you. They won’t see anything.”
This was happening.
The day arrived and lunchtime was chosen. After we were allowed to get out of our seats and play, we all met at the spot near the hall and I was preparing to have my first kiss. I wanted to take the day off school but my Mum did not believe my “I’m sick” lies. Funnily, if my Catholic mother knew the truth, she would have gotten me out of it herself. But I was too scared to tell her the truth. Months earlier I had told her I had a boyfriend. Not this one, the first one.
He and I laughed at all the same things, we sat together in class, we skipped rope together at lunchtime and when he asked me to be his girlfriend I said yes and then everything changed. I hated being around him. I didn’t hate him. I just hated being a girlfriend. There was an expectation now on me to act a certain way, to be around him all the time, to laugh at his jokes. I was predicted to do all the things I was doing before, and now I didn’t want to do them. He sensed this and broke up with me after three days on the playground in front of everybody on the handball court. He called me frigid, too.
Mortified I never told my Mum. It took all my nerves to tell her there was a boy, how could I come back to her a mere days later and say it was done? I felt uncool enough at school, at least at home I could pretend.
So when the next boyfriend happened, and she had no idea my boyfriend’s name or anything about him as I refused to tell her, I was no longer lying when she asked how my boyfriend was and I said “He’s good.”
He was real again. I wasn’t lying which was the biggest sin I could have committed in my Catholic home. Bigger than the kiss I was about to have. I think. This was my second chance to prove I could be a good girlfriend and avoid being teased all over again.
My friends gathered around me. Anyone who was to look our way would know immediately they were hiding something so time was of the essence here.
And there he was. Walking towards me with a smile on his face and I tried to match it with my own. I have no idea if my face was as good as lying as I thought I was.
We were then both enclosed in the curtain of eleven-year-olds. Here I was, reminded that I was the only one who had never kissed anybody and the only one who had no idea what they were doing. At least that is what I was led to believe. But had any of these friends needed me to curtain them at any point? Had I witnessed any of these so-called kisses they had had? It was too late to ask these questions because they were telling us to “Do it!” and he and I inched closer together. Slowly. So slowly. I was expecting him to just go for it. I was under the impression that even though I was shaking with nerves, he would do all the work and it would be over soon. I closed my eyes, waiting. My hands were gripped together behind my back holding on to myself the best I could. This was real and so was I. Something met my lips.
It didn’t feel like I thought it would. The texture was artificial. The temperature was not warm. I opened my eyes to see he had shoved a squishy toy into my face in place of his lips. Saying nothing, we both ran in opposite directions, some friends with me, some with him.
I turned to the friend who had been the leader in making all this happen. “Go tell him he’s dumped,” I snapped. I felt like I had the right to be mortified and therefore crush him by breaking up with him. The angry ex-girlfriend showed no remorse. I was the one doing the breaking up this time.
I had no anger. I was so relieved.
More than twenty years later we can laugh about it all together. Neither of us is what the other was looking for but we didn’t have the words yet. Honestly, we didn’t even know yet. If we did know then, I don’t think we could have survived it. I know I couldn’t have. So we did the best we could with what we knew. When the moment came, even though we had no words to describe it, we knew this wasn’t what either of us wanted and we didn’t force ourselves.
I am so glad my first almost kiss happened with him.
Lovely reader, head into the comments and tell me about your first (or almost) kiss.
here are three things i struggled with this week:
💙 Resisting the urge to reject the kindness of strangers, and rather accept the generosity.
🌿 Discovering yet another thing I cannot eat, but feeling grateful at the same time that I am taking care of myself after many years of not doing so.
👖 Shopping for jeans and *gulp* asking strangers for help. But I did it, and they’re perfect.
here are three blessings from this week:
🐈 Two beautiful cats in my care to fill the void two beautiful cats in my care left me with.
🍩 Gluten-free, dairy-free doughnuts.
🌆 Location, location, location.
here are three goals for the coming week:
💭 Now that all excuses are out of the way, actually follow through on my dreams.
🛌 Scheduled chaos in my daily planner has become habit, and now scheduled naps will too. How else will an early riser be at comedy shows most nights?
🌞 Check in with myself as I adjust.
pics or it didn’t happen:
I love you. Now I am off to follow that which lights me up inside!
Loved reading this - I was on the edge of my seat! Will they? Won’t they? 😃
Gosh, I remember my first kiss. I think I live maybe five minutes drive away from the side of a house where it happened. I remember being a slightly tipsy teenager at the time. It was a good first kiss though! 💋 😀