First KissMelissa Barrett
Courtney Schneider firstname.lastname@example.org Sun, Mar 29, 2009 at 5:24 PM Re: First Kiss My first kiss took place on Christmas Eve 2002. I was 16. My first boyfriend, Charlie, came to church between Christmas Eve services (there were three of them and I was playing handbells) to give me my present. I remember how strange it felt to have him there in the church, on public display in front of my community. Our relationship was quite fresh—we had been "going out," by which of course I mean he had been coming over to my house to visit, where we awkwardly attempted to "snuggle," by which I mean attempt any form of body contact on the couch, since mid November. Besides a bony head on a stiff shoulder, our relationship existed through mild flirtation in zero hour psychology class, and late evenings talking on msn messenger. Friends of ours were also developing a relationship, and I made a bet with Doni for a slurpee at 7/11 over who would kiss their boyfriend first. (We were kind of feminists, you know, role reversal.) I had already lost the bet at this point. But the time was right on this "silent night, holy night." I said I wanted to show him around, and walked with him upstairs to the fellowships rooms where Sunday School is. The lights were out and I didn't bother to switch them on; the only light was the moon streaming in from the windows. I don't know if I said anything or not, but I think my intention was clear. In the sparsely moonlit darkness, I attempted to kiss him; not being able to see, I partly got his mouth and partly that weird bumpy space between the upper lip and nose. It was just a peck—I didn't know anything about kissing, I don't think I used any lip muscles even—just the physical touch of our lips or, uh, philtrum. Then he kissed me back, managing it on the lips this time. Just once, and after what I imagine to be a long hug, we went back downstairs, into the fully lit, celebratory fellowship hall, full of Christmas love. K. Barrett email@example.com Sun, Mar 29, 2009 at 8:23 PM Re: First Kiss Did you mean First Kiss other than Mom and Dad? Oh—that kind of kiss! Well it is very curious of you to ask, because just today Dad and I were talking of that very thing!!!! I was a bit boy-crazy in fifth and sixth grades—(I think I told you that in addition to having my own Dad upset with me, I also had the principal call me to her office to ask me why I was "ratting my hair"—a popular style then and wearing my skirts shorter etc.). I do not remember exactly what I told Sister Alphonsine except I became quite contrite in my wild sixth grade lifestyle and told her I thought I wanted to be a Sister, as in a professed religious woman like her! At the time, I believe it was a sincere assertion—and actually did open myself up to that possibility in college! However . . . I do remember my first kiss from a boy. Though so much time has lapsed some things are foggy, I know it was after school! It was a good-bye to a classmate I had a crush on to say the least. Sometimes, I was allowed to walk home (though usually my Mom arranged a ride for us so that my sister was not left on her own). At any rate, this one time I was able to not just walk by his house, but manage to get enough nerve to stop at his home. (He asked me to!) It would be such a brief detour Mom would not notice I was a few minutes late. He appeared so much older than everyone else in our sixth grade, St. Leo the Great Parish School in Cleveland, Ohio. In order to protect the innocent I will just call him Billy L. If you can imagine a Catholic grade school boy in navy dress pants, white shirt and matching blue tie emulating a James Dean persona, it would be Billy. I cannot recall the exact progression of events that led to his kissing me other than I may not have been the rather shy Karen. Just grade school teasing of course and next a surprise kiss firmly planted on my cheek. I did not reel in horror, rather thought I might receive another one—so that I might realize if I liked it or not—so I remember what followed. He suddenly became adult-like! Rather firmly he pushed me back and said, “You don't even know what you're getting into!” I know—that doesn't seem like a plausible scenario in sixth grade, but it's true. At any rate we were not upset with one another, maybe we piqued our interest level and moved onto other things like listening to the Beatles!! Very shortly after that Billy moved away. He was right, of course—I had no idea what I was getting into with boys, but with my very vigilant Father—I really would not know until I was nearly in my twenties! Kat Steih firstname.lastname@example.org Sun, Mar 29, 2009 at 8:56 PM Re: First Kiss Oh my god. Ok. Soooo my first kiss was from a guy in seventh grade named Brett Armour; he was “sooooooo cute,” but ridiculously awkward. We had just started dating, and one day the word spread around that he was going to kiss me that day. In fact, he was going to kiss me AT LUNCH. So at lunch I made myself available by leaving the table and (I don't really remember how this exactly went down . . .) going into the hallway next to the lunch room with all of the trash cans and stuff, and after about a minute or two Brett followed me out there. The conversation went something like: “So, are we going to kiss?” “Yeah, I guess so.” And then an awkward lip bump that was interrupted by our friends Haley and Sabrina jumping out from behind the trash cans. I don't know if this awkward lip bump really counts as a first kiss . . . but we DEFINITELY, like, made out on the bus on our school field trip a couple weeks later. So yeah. Nonnie Swann email@example.com Mon, March 30, 2009 at 1:33 PM Re: First Kiss The following account is quite possibly, considering the twisted cord of intertwined kisses in my 64 year-old memory, revisionist history—but here's my story and I'm sticking to it. He was a neighbor man-boy, lived across the street . . . older maybe by four years. I was fourteen. He was not a boyfriend . . . a foreshadowing of “future random”? Hmm . . . It happened in the open doorway of his house between the screened-in breezeway and the kitchen. He was strong and clean. It was summer, maybe July. He had short curly brown hair with little streaks of summer gold in it and was wearing an immaculate white muscle shirt (the summer undershirt which many men and boys wore at that time even on hot days). I was there to visit his Mom because she was the only woman on our street of comfortable homes, big lawns and many many trees, who would dare to sunbathe behind her garage clad only in a lacy strapless bra and short shorts. I loved the smell of her sun lotion and I considered her an excellent role model for future nonconformity. But back to the kiss. Funny I never thought about him as the giver of My First Kiss but he was and more than his mouth which was, graced with full lips and in memory at least, sweet. I remember his strong arms and how they wrapped around me. I felt safe and daring at the same time. I'm glad that kiss became a standard for, if not what I like a kiss to mean—certainly, how I like for a kiss to feel. Jacqlyn Witmer firstname.lastname@example.org Mon, Mar 30, 2009 at 1:54 PM Re: First Kiss In case you haven't already picked up on the fact that I'm a country girl, my first kiss story will give you a clue. I was on a hayride with a church group when I was 16, and it went through the woods and it was a full moon night. My boyfriend and I jumped off the wagon in the dark and smooched in the woods. He was tall and awkward so the kiss was kind of sloppy, but it was still exhilarating. Then we realized that we were still far off from the destination so we had to run and catch up to the wagon! Kristen Gibheart email@example.com Mon, Mar 30, 2009 at 4:57 PM Re: First Kiss I’m not sure what qualifies as a first kiss. I think I was three . . . at least my parents tell me I used to chase this little boy in my neighborhood and kiss him. I don’t think that really counts. Then we moved and I actually remember my neighbor kissing me—I did not like it. I’m pretty sure I was in Kindergarten. He didn’t kiss me again because he was afraid he would catch my allergies—which was fine by me. Kathleen Soler firstname.lastname@example.org Mon, Mar 30, 2009 at 6:29 PM Re: First Kiss I was fourteen. I requested it at a friend's party on a hot summer night from a boy she liked. In front of her, too. We were both very bored so he and I went off in the dark away from the cheesy tiki torches and then we stood in front of a walnut tree in her front yard and he stuck his tongue down my throat! I thought it was gross. The end. Kristina O’Lamp email@example.com Mon, Mar 30, 2009 at 7:04 PM Re: First Kiss My first real kiss was when I was 13—it was in the evening, if I remember correctly—and with this guy that was my "boyfriend" at the time. He kinda went in for the kill and I was a little surprised by his boldness. I remember the kiss being wet and thinking that it wasn't at all like the movies. But it was a nice experience overall—(I think the kiss after that got better) and definitely not as disastrous as some first kisses turn out to be. At least I got to kiss the guy I liked at the time :) Kate Barrett firstname.lastname@example.org Tues, Mar 31, 2009 at 10:36 AM Re: First Kiss I used a lot of tongue. When I confessed to him shortly afterward that this was my first time, he said something along the lines of, “I kinda wondered. You were sorta aggressive.” Uncomfortable. Okay, I thought to myself, less is more. Coy and kittenish are good. It wasn't until years later that I realized I don't have to fulfill some prick's ideal of how a girl should kiss. Mona Paak-zaad email@example.com Wed, Apr 1, 2009 at 3:21 PM love,kiss (mona) I ran up the stairs of my uncle's apartment building to the roof. I wanted to die, and fall down ten stories, to the back yard. I was sixteen and a half years old. Babak was 23. I changed my mind after fifteen minutes and started down the stairs. Babak, my Aunt Minoo's nephew, met me while I was on the way down, he was on the way up, the only one concerned about me out of all the people in my uncle's apartment. He consoled me and then I wrapped my arms around him and gave him a kiss. It was midnight and everyone was asleep, and it was dark. He was my first kiss, and first love. April Conway firstname.lastname@example.org Wed, Apr 1, 2009 at 3:59 PM Re: First Kiss My first kiss was with Juan Holliday (or “Juan the Swan” or “Juanito”). It was nighttime and we were at Himmel (Heaven) Park with some of my friends. I think it was also the first time I smoked pot and the fact that I can't remember is a good indication that it's true. Juan and I wandered over to the swing set by ourselves. I remember the tightness in my stomach from the anticipation. I slipped backwards off my swing in order to look at the stars. The sand was cool under my back and the stars seemed endlessly far away, farther than usual. Juan slipped off his swing, leaned over me, and we kissed. Linda Rolfe email@example.com Wed, Apr 1, 2009 at 5:45 PM Re: First Kiss At first I dismissed this (!) as I could not remember, then I thought about it more and remembered a party where a few 14-15 years olds were. We played spin the bottle (as you do) and I got to kiss a boy I had a crush on. His name was Ross Barnard. Soft lips, a hint of top lip soft prickles. Closed mouths. Probably lasted 10 seconds. That was it, but it was nice, I do remember that. Caroline Barrett firstname.lastname@example.org Wed, Apr 1, 2009 at 8:11 PM Re: First Kiss My first kiss was alarming. It transpired in the midst of watching Trainspotting at parentless home. While I was the initiator, it alarmingly progressed from awkward tight-lipped smooches to rhythmless dry humping and slobbery exchanges. After tearing up my chin and cheeks on 5 o'clock shadow, we proceeded to the car: Bon Jovi's Slippery When Wet propelled us into another round . . . and second base. It's kind of sweet to think that I annually acknowledge this day as an anniversary. Elizabeth Powers email@example.com Fri, Apr 3, 2009 at 1:51 PM Re: First Kiss It's actually kind of embarrassing, but Torren was actually my first real kiss. We were sitting on my bed in Hanley freshman year. We had known each other for about two weeks, and had agreed to just be friends and see what happened. So, we're talking, and Torren says to me, "Have you ever been kissed?" and I say "No, I mean, not really kissed." He said, "Okay, well I'll keep that in mind." And I (suddenly channeling some brave, yet incredibly cheesy, inner voice) said "Okay, well do me a favor? Don't keep it in mind too long." About two minutes later he kissed me, and we've been together ever since. Krissie Wells firstname.lastname@example.org Wed, May 6, 2009 at 10:46 AM oy vey I was 15 and had my first boyfriend. I was in a hurry to lose my kissing virginity. His name was Brad and he lived twenty minutes away. He played the drums and he was tall. His mom dropped him off at my house for a “date.” We ate pizza and I was so nervous I kept swallowing my pizza without having chewed it thoroughly. When he kissed me, I pretended to be in a movie. I kissed him so hard, moved my head wildly, shoved my tongue in his mouth. I had no idea what I was doing and we moved too fast. On the other hand, his tongue reminded me of a slug, his body was cold, he was too skinny. It was gross. Tessa Corthell email@example.com Fri, May 8, 2009 at 9:15 PM Re: First Kiss I'd had a massive, huge crush on her since I'd met her a year ago. I thought it would go away over the summer, but nay—it didn't. I knew she'd dated girls in the past but I didn't think she had any interest in me, so I'd basically accepted that it was never going to happen. It was probably around midnight—I'd started to do this thing where I would stay on past the time when other friends had gone home, in hopes of convincing Lea to smoke one extra joint with me. We were stoned, listening to music in her dorm room and we were both sort of leaning on our sides on her bed—facing each other but not looking at each other. She started touching my side, and my heart started racing in this way I've never felt before—the product of shock, nerves, arousal, anticipation—all magnified by the brilliant California pot we were smoking. It was crazy. The thought that I could puke from excitement actually crossed my mind. We both started moving closer to one another and I put my hand on HER side, and so fucking slowly we moved closer and closer and kissed. It was so fucking arousing. We made out for five hours that night—we didn't have sex; there was no serious fondling going on—we just kissed. Heavily. For five hours.
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