Saturday, January 15, 2011

First Kiss

The Guardian has encouraged us all to be fondly nostalgic about our first kisses by pretending it's a "First Kiss Memory Study" to make it feel a bit science-y and not quite so self-indulgent. They don't need to make up science, though, because sometimes a bit of self indulgence is OK.

I have two first kiss memories. This is allowed, I have decided, totally arbitrarily.

I met Boy One at the local outdoor swimming pool. I don't remember particularly fancying him, I don't even remember agreeing to go out with him, although I suppose I must've done at some point. He was called Ahmed, I think, and he was nice, probably. My nostalgia is very vague on this, although I do have distinct memories of always paying for entrance to the swimming pool in 1p and 2p coins and the constant gnawing fear that a wasp had crawled, cackling, into my Coke can. Anyway, once Ahmed bought me some flowers (his parents had a shop, he told me, which explains how a ten year old boy could get hold of a pretty nice bunch of roses), and gave them to me in my back garden. I was quite surprised, although I think I was aware that I was supposed to be delighted and a bit swoon-y. He leaned rakishly against a tree and asked me to guess who he thought the most beautiful woman in the world was. I thought about this for a bit. "Sharon Stone?" I guessed. He shook his head, no. "Julia Roberts?" (This was about 1990.) Wrong again. I went through a few more lady celebrities. "Cindy Crawford? That one off Baywatch?" All wrong. I gave up. "Who?"

"You" he told me, proudly.

I was totally baffled. I was ten. I had freckles and skinny legs. There was just no logical way that I was even beautiful at all, let alone more dazzling than Pretty Woman or that one off Baywatch. He was, quite clearly, really stupid, I decided. I was just about to tell him this when he leaned forward and planted a kiss on my confused mouth. But it was too late. I had already stopped trusting anything he said. Boys must think girls are stupid, I thought. (I still mostly think this.)

Boy Two was a few summers later, at a party in a tiny, dusty hall, which seemed to meld seamlessly into the car park next to which it squatted. I wore (judge me if you must) blue checked hotpants, a white crop top and pale blue, high heeled jelly shoes. Go on, read that sentence again, then imagine the ensemble. Take a moment. I've come to terms with it, you can too.

All the girls were in similar outfits and the boys had that glorious nineties hairstyle known as 'curtains'. A friend of mine had found out that I had never "snogged" anyone before, and decided it was about time I started. Shy, and fairly ambivalent about the whole snogging thing, I entreated her not to tell anyone, but teenage girls are cruel and of course my words went woefully unheeded. Before I knew it I was being pushed out the back door of the hall with a boy called Lewis, who I found horribly unattractive but who had blond curtains and therefore counted as "fit". We stood awkwardly together, or at least, I was awkward. Lewis seemed to have a bizarre confidence which he wore like his orange-lined bomber jacket. My friend, of course had told him I had never done it before, and so he was about to initiate me into the delightful world of teenage "snogging". He, it seemed, had done it before, and to my considerable consternation began immediately demonstrating his expertise on my face. I knew I was supposed to close my eyes, and as I did so I wondered in horror whether it was meant to hurt this much and whether all the disgusting chewing was really necessary. After a while it was over, and as I tried to discreetly wipe the tide of saliva from my cheeks he regarded me, head tilted. "Not bad for a first time" he proclaimed, knowingly.

I wandered inside to find my friends, to lie to them about the whole spit/chewing fiasco. I made a strong, silent pledge to myself at that moment that I would never, ever do that again. Ever.

Tell me about your first time, if you like. (You can have two.)


Blogger Wierdo said...

The comment got too long so I blogged it

7:02 pm

Blogger Miss Devylish said...

Ok - so my first kiss was 1985 when I was 14 - and since you're about 10 yrs younger than me, how were you 10 in 1990? I'm so confused w/ this math. Either way - I found my Hello Kitty diary from this time so that's how I can tell you all of it and it lasted way shorter than I remembered.. like w/in a week I had my first kiss, first boyfriend, then decided I was too scared to go out w/ him because he was 'older' and didn't like him anyway. But I digress: my first kiss was Jason Susee - I met him at this teen dance I originally wasn't going to go to that our church put on. The church we went to in the rival town so he didn't go to my school. AND he was a junior AND popular AND 'gorgeous' according to my 14 yr old self. I was only a freshman, but he danced w/ me a lot - then 'frenched' me eventually after 'rubbing my back' quite a bit and pulling me closer. Those older boys sure know the moves. We ended up talking a bit over the course of the week but my parents wouldn't let him come over w/out them being there - so I don't know how we actually made a date where we ended up alone in the park one afternoon and I had my first real make out and he may have also felt me up - which I was terribly ashamed of at the time and decided he moved too fast for me and therefore, a few days later, unliked him and never wrote about him again. School started and every page of that diary has a different boy's name on it so I clearly forgot about him quickly. I wasn't a tart til wayyy later - I was just boy crazy. I probably didn't get another kiss til I moved to another city - and was still a good girl til 18. Then I really made up for lost time. ;)

8:55 am

Blogger Ellie said...

I pulled away in fright. "What is that strange thing in my mouth?" I thought. Then I realised my pulling away had been noted by the cute boy in question. I struggled to find an explanation. I lied. I told him he had bad breath.

Of all the things I would undo.

10:11 pm

Blogger sugarmouse said...

yeah you always remember your first kiss... mine was on a roof of a mall. the day after boxing day. it was magic.

1:56 am

Blogger Ariel said...

Small town Ireland, in the back room of a record shop. Him, musician/singer/songwriter way much older than I was. Me, 14, glasses, bad perm and an M&S turquoise blue top with huge bright yellow sunflowers. Cringe.

4:26 am

Blogger Curly said...

Eight. I was eight. The girl was seven. We listened to the eastenders soudntrack on one of these. I can't believe I just wrote that on the internet.

3:17 pm


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