My first kiss was with a gay man.
At the time, I didn’t know he was gay- I’m not sure he was totally sure he was gay, but the indisputable fact was my first kiss was with a gay man and it met none of my expectations.
After an unfortunate calculator incident several weeks prior, my highly anticipated and highly scripted first kiss was in the works- let me explain. For years, I had fantasized of having my first kiss involve a bridge, in the woods, in the rain (and this was pre Notebook), and I was willing to compromise on…well, none of the above. I had also endured an emotionally tumultuous relationship with boy from 8th grade up. He was my first boyfriend, the first person to hold my hand…but it took us two years to lead up to the kiss and my emotional frustrations were only surmounted by my sexual ones.
One day after the final bell, I got a note from my friend with a poem describing where to go. It eloquently alluded to a kiss waiting for me in the woods, on a bridge, but allowed that the writer could not control the weather (I was disappointed). So I nervously walked out the doors of my high school and with sweating palms, trekked across the parking lot to the tennis courts and saw the man of my middle school dreams standing, book bag strapped tight, on the bridge on the path to his close by home.
I walked up to him and he flung his back pack down and approached me. My heart started thumping, a cacophony in my ears, my throat swelled, my breath grew ragged and my legs threatened to cease standing. The moment I had read about in Judy Blume novels (and illicit Cosmo magazines) loomed before me and instead of fresh breath, I had sweaty palms. There was a bridge, there were woods but no rain, and while my childhood hero, Meatloaf alleged that “2 out of 3 ain’t bad”, I had different thoughts.
Regardless of my doubts and misplaced fears, my beau’s full lips were all I stared at….yet, our history required more drama of this moment. Our 2 year relationship had more breakups and makeups then an episode of Boy Meets World. We had written thinly veiled Xanga entries about each other, for God’s sake. So, as my one and only leaned in, I shirked away, muttering “I can’t do this”, to which he replied a relieved “Okay”. Sensing his exit, I smiled and turned what could have been a bearably awkward moment into one that I would cringe at for years to come, and sexily (read: not sexy at all) leaned in.
Clumsily our lips mashed together in what can only be described as a collision of faces. There was no puckering. There was no tongue. There was awkward lip touching- 3 consecutive times.
After “The Moment”, we each picked up our backpacks and went our separate ways home, only to reconnect later on AIM and discuss our feelings. We came to a somewhat mutual agreement that we would carry on as just friends, a friendship that I’m proud of to this day.
My first kiss met none of my expectations BUT it created a standard of awkward and enticing that I would use to gauge the success of all future relationships by. If you’re slightly uncomfortable, but your heart is racing, and the butterflies are flying, something GOOD is happening…something memorable. Go with it, live in the drama of the moment. Write a blog about it 10 years later.