The one-and-only annegb will be guest posting with us for the next month. When I first started blogging, she quickly became my favorite sassy-grandma in the bloggernacle. Two years of blog-reading later and she still is my favorite writer. She regularly blogs with the “peculiar people” at Mormon Mentality. Lucky them, lucky us. Thanks annegb! —Maralise
My Sarah and I laugh every once in awhile when we remember her first kiss. She was six and I was tending a little boy in her kindergarten class, Christian. As they jumped on the tramp and slid down the slide and climbed the tree in the backyard, she was overcome with affection for her friend and gave him a big kiss on the cheek.
He almost threw up. He actually gagged and held on to a tree limb and dry heaved several times. Then he looked at her and said, “Never do that again.” I was lying on the grass laughing and trying not to pee my pants.
He’s big and handsome now and maybe he doesn’t remember his first kiss, although I have reminded his mother occasionally about his drastic response.
Thinking back, I had a similar “grossed out” response to my first kiss. I have only recently realized that I was slow to develop hormonally. Or perhaps I was channeling my inner Emily Dickinson because I enjoyed admiring boys from afar, as a concept, but didn’t really long for that boyfriend-girlfriend relationship that my other 13 year old friends made their priorities. I was more interested in books and skateboarding (let me tell you, I was a killer skateboarder).
A boy, what was his name?-I don’t remember, but he was 16 and he got a crush on me and asked me to go steady and everybody thought it was a good idea, so I said yes, but it only lasted till that evening when he kept trying to get me to make out with him on the couch. No desire whatsoever. No tingle when he held my hand or put his arm around my back. More of a “what the hell are you doing?” sort of feeling.
So he dumped me because I wouldn’t make out with him and I was vastly relieved.
However, as that summer progressed, in our Long Beach neighborhood that, at the time resembled a small town in itself and brings back fond memories, kids paired off. My younger sister, who was a bigger tomboy than I, got the best boy. I never told her I thought he was the cutest until last year and she agreed, “Yes, Mike O’Neil was hot. He was the hottest boy.” I ended up going steady (again) with a boy named Rusty. I can’t remember his last name.
He was my age and more stupid like I was, so it wasn’t as uncomfortable. We actually ended up being pretty good friends and we skateboarded to the beach together and hung out at Cherry Street Park and I quite enjoyed his company. As a friend.
Mike was two years younger than Rusty, the same age as my sister, and he decided we all needed to make out. So we went to the laundry room that was in the backyard of our little apartment complex and we made an agreement. First Chris and Mike would go into the laundry room and shut the door and make out and then Rusty and I would go in and make out.
Chris and Mike came out looking knowledgeable and I envied my sister her aplomb since I, even at my age, wasn’t really sure what making out was. Then Rusty and I went into the laundry room. We sat side by side on a shelf near the washers and felt awkward for awhile. I realize now he was much more eager than I—-I basically just wanted to get it over with. Finally, he said, “Shall we?”
And I said, “Okay.”
And he leaned over and kissed me. Well, he touched his wet lips to mine. I was totally grossed out but not wanting to hurt his feelings by rubbing his spit off my lips sort of sat there, frozen with my feelings of grossness and thinking, “What is the big deal about this?”
And he said, “Do you want to do it again?”
And I said, “No. I’m not ready for that.”
And we went out and I hoped we looked as experienced as my younger sister and ran to the bathroom and washed my lips off.
Things went kind of downhill with me and Rusty after that. We still had fun together, but all he wanted to do was kiss me again and it just ruined the friendship for me. I would not do that again. He moved at the end of the summer and I wouldn’t even kiss him goodbye, although I was sad to lose my friend.
We wrote to each other for awhile, then I decided I didn’t want to go steady anymore (I think he was living in Ohio) and sent him back his Tiki necklace with a short note telling him I liked him, but going steady wasn’t my thing.
He wrote me a tearfully emotional letter telling me he’d jumped up excitedly to get my letter and broke his ankle, then read the letter and got bad news and I’d broken his heart.
You know, I still feel quite badly about hurting him because he was my friend and I wish I could remember his last name so I could tell him how sorry I am and how much he really meant to me aside from all the lovey-dovey stuff.
I didn’t kiss anybody again until I was 16 and it went a little better. Kissing, what an issue it can be. How was your first kiss?