12th December 2011 - 5 mins read
A fair evening to you all, my dearest readers.
I have mentioned before that I went through an experimentation phase a few years back. I didn’t make all smart choices, but I was lost, confused and most of all, curious. I never really dated anyone until I was over 21 years old, which also meant that I have never kissed anyone until that age. So I always imagined that my “first kiss” would be really special – under the stars, at the beach and with a foot pop of course. Now that I look back at it I think to myself, “Little did I know.”
A few years back, I went to a party with Pixie and Ellie, who had brought two of her male friends along. As the night went on, we got to talking with them here and there and eventually got to dancing. One of the two boys, Misty, got closer to me and we started dancing together. And at this point, Pixie was on a long-distance call with her boyfriend at the time and Ellie had met a great guy and was talking to him. I was left alone with Misty for about thirty minutes and continued dancing with him. And I had gotten so lost in the great music that night that I didn’t notice the time go by.
At one point in the evening, “Forever” by Chris Brown came on and Misty began adjusting the lyrics to his own convenience. “It’s gonna be me and you on the dance floor,” sang Chris Brown. “From the dance floor to the bedroom,” whispered Misty into my ear. “Ummmm or not,” I thought to myself. I was a little freaked out because I hadn’t been exposed to this kind of thing before and I knew that he just wanted to get into my pants. I had heard all the stories growing up about men like him and knew that being so innocent at the time, I didn’t want to be involved in anything like that with him. In simple honesty, I was just having a good time and didn’t think I would ever see him again past this night.
We then had to go home so I told him that and he said, “WE’RE going home?” I shot him a sarcastic look and said, “No, me and my friends are going home. You can go to your own home.” We laughed about it, said goodbyes and goodnights and we left. On the way home, it coincided that we happened to bump into each other on the road. We talked for a bit and he asked for my number. I felt like I was on Cloud 9 because that was the first time a guy had asked for my number and I was so giggly and happy because I never thought I’d see the day where a guy would like me (I have previously explained my deadly seven-year-long friends zone curse). Though I hesitated not knowing what could come of this, I eventually gave Misty my number and he texted me that night. That’s where the weirdness began.
I texted back only to get a reply from him 24 hours later and this unexplainable behavior continued for the remainder of the week. He’d message me, I’d message him back and he’d reply a day later. This was the first time I was getting this (or any) kind of treatment from a guy, but it didn’t take me long to put two and two together and realize he was playing games. I found it strange because I always thought it was the girl who had to “play hard to get” but here he was doing that to me. The whole thing turned into a big joke for me and I told him that I’d lose interest soon if he didn’t step his game up.
The next weekend, Misty invited me out to another party and Ellie came along with the guy she had met the weekend before. Since I realized nothing serious would come out of Misty, I continued in my pursuit of fun and decided to go. We danced the whole night but this time around, the music was horrendous. The thing is with me, I freeze still when I don’t like the music that’s playing and when I said that to Misty he said, “You’re not dancing to the rhythm of the music, you’re dancing to the rhythm of my body.” As the night proceeded, both of our lines got cheesier and cheesier. We did get really close though and I sensed that he wanted to kiss me so every time that happened, I’d give him my cheek or turn around and dance with my back to him. He kissed my neck and my ear and I thought, “This is so going to happen tonight.”
At one point in the evening, I got really thirsty so we headed to the bar set up at the party to get some water. As I waited for my bottle, to my surprise a really good song came on. I was ecstatic about this because I had a miserable time thus far and said to myself, “Finally! Something I can dance to!” We were standing up against a wall with the bar-top to our left and a column to our right. In other words, the space just barely fit the both of us. We started dancing to the really good song and we got close – very, very close. Our faces were only a centimeter apart. Misty gave me this look and I said to myself, “Here we go.”
Since I was 21 and never been kissed, I had promised myself that if the opportunity ever presented itself, I would go for it. I just never imagined that my goody two-shoes self would have her first kiss at a party with literally, a random nobody. Everything I had ever imagined would be my first kiss failed me miserably that night.
He went in for the kiss. I completely froze. By froze I mean ice solid. I had no idea what to do and on top of that, Misty had big lips, which made it even harder for me to figure out how to maneuver my way around. I pulled away and he kissed me like two or three other times that night. I froze in all the times and was absolutely mortified. I was even more paranoid than normal because I had a relentless fear that when the day came where I actually do get kissed, I would have no idea what to do; and that was exactly the case.
After the most atrocious kissing experience we continued waiting at the bar for my water. He asked me if I was ticklish and I thought, “What does that have to do with anything?” I am extremely ticklish and when I told him that he said, “Well, you know what they say about ticklish girls.” I said: “What?” He said, “That they’re really good in bed.” I said, “Are you ticklish?” He said, “No.” I said, “Are you insulting yourself?” He said, “No, it only applies to girls!” At this point I thought that it could not get any more pointlessly horrendous and I just wanted to leave to be able to absorb what the hell had just happened.
I left that night feeling like, “He so must’ve figured out that it was my first kiss.” I confirmed later that he did actually figure out it was my first kiss because I was so shy, so nervous, so absolutely terrified. But at least now, fairytale or not, I knew I could no longer say that I was 21 and have never been kissed.
Add that to the story of my first Valentine’s Day date ever, and you’ve got a wonderful fairytale princess collection of firsts that Disney would be damn proud of.
Kisses and hugs,