Hey Cheesers! Miss Sarcasm here with today's post, writing prompt, and this week's general cheese. This week we're all about the kissing. And as usual, guest posters are encouraged, needed, and loved on. Big time. Like snuggling loved on. Send us your good, bad, ugly, awkward, physically painful or otherwise kissing story over at email@example.com. We'll showcase your story and blog if you have one.
Join in, why don't you? Please kiss and tell.
I'd say I remember it like it was yesterday, but in fact it's only a vague memory with most details long gone from my brain. As it probably should be, considering the circumstances.
I'm talking about my first "real" kiss. Many people likely look back on their first real kiss fondly. I think back and immediately cringe. It was definitely NOT what I'd hoped it would be. But it's reality, and since I'm usually lame in most everything I do, this was no exception.
I was entering my freshman year of high school and "dating" but not really "dating" a boy who shall remain nameless. Remember my parents' strict rules on dating? If so, then you know that any liking of any boy I did had to be on the sly.
To cut to the chase, it was night time and a friend and I were meeting her "boyfriend" and "mine" for a quick moonlit rendezvous. I can't even fucking believe I just typed that sentence. Rendezvous? Really, me? See? LAME.
I remember being so goddamn nervous. I had zero clue what an actual, real kiss entailed. I knew all about quick lip and cheek pecks. I was queen of hugging, slow dancing, and hand-holding. But lip on lip action with mouths likely open? Terrified and naive was I.
I also remember not really ever actually looking at him, as my friend and her guy were all mash-faced and swapping spit like the world was about to end and this would be their last shot at anything remotely sexual.
I was mortified, embarrassed, scared, and slightly excited, all wrapped into a hormonal ball of teenagerness.
Finally, I figured I'd get it the hell over with. I turned to face him, and we kissed. I know for a fact that since I hadn't really done it before that I was terrible at it, but I also know for a fact that (regardless how very inexperienced I was), he was NOT a good kisser. Not even remotely close to being decent. I would think a "good" kisser would have been better at helping guide me along.
In reality, I didn't even want to be there after about a minute of it.
But, like all spineless 13 year old girls who just want boys to like them, I ended up simply going along with it, waiting for it to be over.
And it was terrible.
It was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad kiss.
I didn't get this:
I got something along the lines of this:
And to top it off, he thought it was pretty bad too. Said his grandma was better.
Dude, if you're attempting to kiss your grandma like that...... just fucking GROSS.
In the long run, we stopped "dating" and talking and acknowledging each other while we moved on to bigger and better things in life. I eventually found boys who were WAY better kissers, and hence, I became way better. It became fun. Enjoyable. Something I would happily do for hours. And did happily do for hours with a few of them. (don't worry Mom, I was OLDER and doing actual, legal dating by then).
The point of my story is that like usual, I have no real nor profound point unless it's this; that a first kiss, like the first time having sex, is a big deal and is usually very awkward and pretty bad. (And if you're under 18 and reading this, DON'T EVEN EFFING DO IT.)
It's like I should give speeches at high schools or something.
This post (and lots of others) can also be found over at my personal blog; Musings of a Sarcastic Mind. If you haven't already been there, GO dammit. What are ya waiting for?