The story of my first real kiss is a little more interesting. At least I hope so. My first real kiss occurred when I was in the 6th grade (no snarky remarks about the 4 year drought) and happened with Mark, a tall, charismatic 11 year old.
We went to get a slice of pizza after school and well…we enjoyed our snack and as Mark walked me home, we held hands and didn’t talk very much. Before we parted, he kissed me goodbye, part innocence, part curiosity, and mostly awkwardness.
But while that kiss will never earn high marks on the list of “amazing first kisses”, I cherish the emotions it evoked. I felt that kiss for days, maybe weeks. It represented confidence, adolescence, and romance all combined in a pinnacle of excitement lasting less than a few heartbeats.
And perhaps that’s the best part of a first kiss. It opens a whole new world of possibilities. It creates an everlasting memory. It tells a story without even trying.
My worst kiss? Well that was how I started this message. Being chased on the playground by a boy I didn’t want to kiss me, and slugging him when he got too close. I’d never been sent to the principal’s office before so the disgrace I felt amplified my anger and although I’ve endured other kisses that fall into the same category, Jimmy’s playground kiss ranks as the worst for me.