Kissing has always fascinated me. Now that I think about it, it might have been an effect of my mom covering my eyes whenever anything remotely intimate happened in a movie or on a t.v. show that we were watching. I remember clutching my blanket and squealing over cartoon kisses, especially those in Kim Possible, American Dragon, and Danny Phantom. However, despite yearning for a magical kiss of my own, I was completely ignorant to how gross kisses could be and just exactly how much spit is transferred.
It was like kids who say they like horses, but have never actually smelled a horse before. Daddy buys them a pony for their extravagant sixth birthday party, but was left with a crying child and an emptier wallet.
But ignorance is truly bliss and I lived a majority of my life as blind as a bat, not knowing the truth until my first year of high school.
I was significantly pure when I started my Freshman year, but as many others can tell you, 9th grade was a year of firsts. It was the first year I was able to eat lunch outside, the first year I had to pull multiple all-nighters for a class, but more importantly, it was the first time I was going to Harvest Fest. My sister had told me about Harvest Fest, a Fall dance in my High School, before I entered, but she didn’t warn me of how close everything was. If I thought Middle School dances were bad, Harvest Fest definitely made them seem a lot tamer by comparison. It was like a mosh pit of angsty, hormonal teenagers, all hyped up on sugary drinks and snacks which they probably shouldn’t have eaten past nine o’clock anyway.
So of course, to escape the people who were dancing inappropriately at a distance that was way too close for comfort, I move towards the bleachers with my friends. It wasn’t until a few minutes later that my friend pointed out the girl that was looking at me from across the dance floor. She eyed me like how a child eyes a toy they don’t need, but want- a toy that they break in a matter of a few days. I didn’t have a chance to pretend our eyes didn’t meet before she came over to where I was and sat uncomfortably close to me- she sat on my lap.
I gulped. She laughed and called it cute. I didn’t notice she started to dance on me until I heard my friend’s jittery laugh beside me and saw some of my Senior friends giving me looks and a thumbs up. It felt like I was having a lucid nightmare, however I was frozen in place and couldn’t say anything. Eventually the life-absorbing succubus left to go dance with her other friends which gave me enough time to scramble away and hide behind some food stands.
And that’s how I spent a majority of that night: hiding behind people, places, bleachers, anything that helped me avoid her. But 15 minutes before the dance ended, she spotted me and ran.
“Hey, come outside with me for a moment,” she said. It was a demand, not a question.
I mumbled something that passed for “Alright,” but it sounded more like a small whine. She interlocked her fingers with mine and took me through the back door of the auditorium that led outside.
It was a dark muggy night, more humid than anything, and sweat clung to my halloween costume as we walked outside. It was a silent walk, obviously nothing was said because we both knew what was going to happen. We both knew what she wanted.
I remember being uncomfortable, her thumb slowly caressed the side of my hand, but I barely knew this girl. If she meant it as a gentle reassurance, it felt more like a talon scratching a chalkboard. But despite all of this, I walked. The dance would be over soon, people would come out, I wouldn’t be alone.
It was as if God Himself paused the world for a cursed eternity, even though I was only outside for 10 minutes. She sat me on a bench and sat on my lap again.
‘This again’ I thought to myself scoffingly, despite the fact that I felt I could puke at any moment. There weren’t any butterflies in my stomach; there were pterodactyls.
The moment she started to get closer to my face I knew it was now or never. So I did the most plausible thing that I could think of at that moment.
“So, what’s your GPA?” I blurted out loud, stopping her in her tracks. She gave me a confused face and said she wasn’t sure. She started to move closer again.
“Oh, well mine is a 3.8, haha. What about school? Do you like it here? What’s your favorite class, honestly my favorite is English with Borges, but-”
She cut me off by pressing her lips onto mine hastily. I didn’t move, I mean I couldn’t, she was sitting on my lap and whatever strength I had left as quickly as the kiss had come. Something was wrong: this wasn’t the kiss that I had imagined all those years ago while watching t.v. This was too long, too wet, too gross. She pulled away from my stern lips and looked at me.
“It’s okay, you can try too” she said in an attempt to get me to kiss her back, but I just stayed quiet. A little too hard, I pushed her off my lap and stood up.
“Sorry,” I said a little too loud, getting looks from the people that were exiting the dance. I gave her one last glance before I walked towards the doors to find my sister and hightail it out of there. That was three years ago.
Ever since that moment, even the sound of someone moistening their lips disgusts me and I can’t help but give a repulsed face. It was so off putting that I still don’t count it as my first kiss- it fits best in the “one of my multiple disappointments” category. Hopefully, my next one won’t be so scarring.