Too mortifying – My First Kiss.

Photocredit: Ninentendomaximum.deviantart

Photocredit: Ninentendomaximum.deviantart

I’m linking up with Kerri’s Sackville’s #MyFirst. Today we’re writing about My First Kiss…

It takes a bit of nerve to reveal the details surrounding my first kiss, as it was so personally and publicly humiliating to my 14 year old self. But decades have passed, and I can finally describe the circumstances of said embrace, with some composure.

These are the sordid details.

It was my first mixed party, held at a farm out of town. There were no parents present, at least not visibly. The object of my desire – a hot boy called Bryan,(older, more mature at 15 and very experienced) was there. I was nervous. I’d liked him for 3 months, though liked is an understatement – I fancied Bryan with a passion that made my head spin. But I was shy, completely tongue-tied and inexperienced. He on the other hand was already onto girlfriend number 5. A worldly kind of boy.

Nonetheless, the evening showed promise: the lights were low and the dancing waned as the games began. Spin the Bottle and Postman’s Knock were the most popular. Couples drifted into dim corners with their beaus and my girlish breast began to flutter with expectation.

He was the postman and he came knocking…

It’s called ‘making out’ now but then it was ‘pashing’. I hadn’t done it before and I was hopeless at it. I was anxious I’d dribble or expose my inexperience and look like the amateur I was. Or the opposite – be too keen and desperate. I wanted to be cool about this kiss. And I was…ice-cold.

I didn’t know this boy. He went to a different high school so I hadn’t spoken 5 words to him in my life. I hadn’t really spoken to boys from my own school either. But I’d met his gaze in the street. Anyone who has ever lived in a country town will understand that teenage socialising involves walking up and down the main street on Saturday morning, leering looking at the opposite sex as you passed. I’d leered looked at Bryan a lot. I’d passed him in the street and turned my head around, smirking, lowering my lashes.

But I didn’t know him and I was terrified.

The wooden kiss.

He tried. I’ll give him that. He tried to kiss me but I didn’t respond. I was a rock, a wall of ice that wouldn’t, couldn’t thaw. He ground his lips into mine but that rock turned granite. I didn’t open my lips, I was comatose with fear.

The aftermath.

He wasn’t gallant, Bryan, and my reputation was trashed overnight. It spread like wildfire that I was totally frigid. I couldn’t hold my head up. I tried to brazen it out but everyone knew that it was true. All desire for Bryan evaporated with that abortive non-kiss.

I was so traumatised by the experience, I ceased all intimacies with boys from  this moment on for the next two years (my parents were happy about this). I consoled myself instead, with girl company. My best friend hadn’t been kissed either; she wasn’t any good at it, either. Time moved on and I moved on to my next crush. A new boy who hadn’t heard about my terrible reputation.

How was your first embrace? Was it a satisfying event or a mortifying one…or just a non-event?

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11 thoughts on “Too mortifying – My First Kiss.

  1. I remember practising on my hand but nothing prepares you for the real thing. Frigid! I haven’t heard that for a while but yes! That’s what they’d all say if you didn’t put out. Better than the alternative though!

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