Two First Kisses
My first real kiss, aside from schoolyard pecks and childhood experiments, was with a girl. Looking back, I tend to call her my girlfriend, my first 'relationship', though I'm not sure I'd worried about such terms at the time. I was only twelve. We were best friends... who would get together to gossip, daydream and make out. She had braces, and kissing her was always wet and messy. With her, I also shot a gun for the first time and saw a pig up close for the first time. Her (much) older brother was my gateway into new wave. Even as I was making out with her, I had a not entirely well-hidden crush on him. I never thought what we were doing was wrong because we were both girls. I thought it was naughty because adults would tell us we were too young. Years later, our paths crossed while out shopping, and she looked at me with such shame, shame I never felt until that day. That's the first time I can remember feeling weird or uncomfortable liking girls, the first time I can actually recall thinking it was maybe not okay. It was a long, long time before I admitted to liking another girl after that, though I had a huge crush on one of my closest friends throughout high school.
My second real kiss was wet, too, though it was because he had a really big mouth. The width of his mouth reminded me of a frog. I remember feeling like he might swallow me whole, head first. I was nervous, and it felt rushed and silly and awkward at the time, but looking back, it seems like it must have been very romantic. It was on July 4th, which was also his birthday, and it was late, dark. We were at the fair, and there were fireworks overhead. There were trees nearby. I remember the play of light and shadow. It was sweet above all else. He was always sweet. Even after we broke up, we remained good friends because he was just an all-around awesome guy. There just weren't any real sparks between us.
It's funny how I remember the second one in more detail. I remember tiny little snippets with the girl: making out in the backseat of her parents' parked car where we thought no one would find us, being pressed up close behind the shed, almost getting caught with my hand down her pants when her mother came up to her room while we were changing into bathing suits. I couldn't tell you what our first kiss was like, though. I don't remember. I just know it was with her, but we kissed a lot. I wonder if it was the one in the car which was first. She seemed so nervous, so uncertain. I didn't realize then why she was so uncomfortable with what we were doing. I thought she was just afraid of getting caught, just that same as she might be if she were making out with anyone else.
I'm not sure why this was on my mind tonight. Boys have always been easier for me, even though I'm confidently, comfortably bisexual. I know they won't come with that shame years later, like I somehow tricked them into kissing a girl. I know they're more comfortable in their perfectly normal sexuality (boys are supposed to kiss girls) than most girls would be. Chicks are also just... more complicated in general. Probably doesn't help that I call them chicks.
But yeah, thinking about kissing. And about girls. And about kissing girls...
My second real kiss was wet, too, though it was because he had a really big mouth. The width of his mouth reminded me of a frog. I remember feeling like he might swallow me whole, head first. I was nervous, and it felt rushed and silly and awkward at the time, but looking back, it seems like it must have been very romantic. It was on July 4th, which was also his birthday, and it was late, dark. We were at the fair, and there were fireworks overhead. There were trees nearby. I remember the play of light and shadow. It was sweet above all else. He was always sweet. Even after we broke up, we remained good friends because he was just an all-around awesome guy. There just weren't any real sparks between us.
It's funny how I remember the second one in more detail. I remember tiny little snippets with the girl: making out in the backseat of her parents' parked car where we thought no one would find us, being pressed up close behind the shed, almost getting caught with my hand down her pants when her mother came up to her room while we were changing into bathing suits. I couldn't tell you what our first kiss was like, though. I don't remember. I just know it was with her, but we kissed a lot. I wonder if it was the one in the car which was first. She seemed so nervous, so uncertain. I didn't realize then why she was so uncomfortable with what we were doing. I thought she was just afraid of getting caught, just that same as she might be if she were making out with anyone else.
I'm not sure why this was on my mind tonight. Boys have always been easier for me, even though I'm confidently, comfortably bisexual. I know they won't come with that shame years later, like I somehow tricked them into kissing a girl. I know they're more comfortable in their perfectly normal sexuality (boys are supposed to kiss girls) than most girls would be. Chicks are also just... more complicated in general. Probably doesn't help that I call them chicks.
But yeah, thinking about kissing. And about girls. And about kissing girls...