My first kiss

SO far I’ve kissed three women. Well, the first two kisses weren’t to women. We were too young.

Yeah. I don’t get out much. No way I’m telling you my age but anyone who knows a rough idea would surely be a bit…”wow, that’s just…sad.”

Anyhoo.

My first kiss. I’ve been putting off the story for a while to save for the right time. But it’s been weeks since my last confession blog post so maybe the problem would be solved with a story I wanted to dig up.

For years there’s been a sense of disgust about my first kiss. It affected me heavily I think because I was ashamed about it, so I didn’t talk about it. It’s why I pushed girls away I wasn’t sure of, how it’s affected all sexual views and attitudes.

All I knew about kisses then was from the movies. It had to be the right time, the right place, the right girl.

Her name was Maggie Olde and she wanted to go out ever since I knew her. She tried to bribe me with her Nintendo if I went out with her. She was my near neighbour. The cool guys thought she was ugly and fat. I wanted to do everything to impress them. I would not fit in ever if she and I were to go out.

There’s so many things wrong with that previous paragraph but these were my thoughts at the time. And there was a throbbing, a frustration in all areas of my body, a line I wanted to test and balance and the only girl I felt confident to do it with was Maggie.

I used Maggie for my own gratification, which I would do with a letter every now and then to tell her I had the hots for her. Then I’d get a letter and a rush of heat from the compliments she gave back to me. I’d regret it quickly and even more so with the little sickening comments my way.

Like, when everyone on the bus discussed hate and love. I said “I read somewhere that hate and love is the same thing.”

“Then,” she said staring at me so I wouldn’t miss what she was saying. “I HATE you.”

 

It was a messed up, toxic relationship. Years later I ran into one of my teachers, and she commented on it. “You two never mixed.”

About two years ago, I met Amber again (foster niece, friend, sort of a childhood crush) after a long time of lost contact. As we sat in the carpark of Nerang Train Station I told her about Maggie. Amber never knew because I didn’t even tell her.

“Oh my God,” Amber said, almost sounding horrified.

 

I hated myself for the weirdness. Confused, insecure, I didn’t want her, I wanted to experiment. I wanted to fit in. I wanted something else but then and even now I didn’t know what it was.

So one afternoon we went to her place with the promise of Nintendo. We were alone in her bedroom. She wanted to kiss. We did. There was no magic, no fuzzy feeling in my head or the excitement you might get finding a Pink Yoshi near the Forest of Illusion. I felt like I was touching something slimy and gross. I was queasy. I wanted to go home.

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“Now,” she said, sitting at her desk. “Let’s pretend you’re the husband and I’m the wife, and you’re coming home and you love me.” And she leaned out, lips puckered.

I should have got the hell out of there.

But I kissed her on the forehead and said “where’s your Nintendo.”

And then when I found out she didn’t have it anymore, I got the hell out of there.

5 thoughts on “My first kiss

      1. I’m sure you know about love, my friend. It seems to me that you apply that word and emotion to many of the things you do. And sex is only a matter of time, patience, will and discretion. For all of us, even those of us who’ve been there before.

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