Pucker Up.

You never forget your first; even if, sometimes you wish you could.

Time to wind back the hands of time to freshman year. Oh!, the horror, the agony, the immaturity.

This was the year I had my first official boyfriend and got my first official kiss. Being that I was one of the first girl to get a boyfriend out of my friends, I had very few options to go to for advice seeking. I wanted to ask - how should I position my face? What flavor chapstick should I wear? What should I expect? What do I do with my tongue? Well, turns out I was flying solo on this one.

I remember thinking having a boyfriend wouldn't be a big deal. It's not like I was dating the varsity quarterback, so the whole "relationship" thing could go over pretty much on the D-L. Yeah, that was until J.H. decided to announce to my entire Spanish class that me and said boyfriend were a hot item. I didn't even know what a hot item was, and we definitely weren't that, but whatever... It was from that day forward that I felt like I was being watched - everyone knew were were dating, so we had to act like that.

Well, at age 15 - the problem is you don't really know how to act. You're at a very awkward phase. Your body is changing, you get pimples, skipping swimming in gym because you have your period is no longer an excuse...etc. Not to mention, when you are the youngest in the high school there is a lot to live up to. You see that "A-list" seniors macking in the hallway during breaks; you see those same "A-listers" dry humping at school dances. You wonder when you get to be that cool. (Okay, no you don't. Most of the normal kids never wanted to be that cool. You only did if you were an A-list froshie; of which, I definitely was not.)

So it all began at a school dance. Just happened to be on -gag- Valentine's Day. That marked the start of our relationship. Slow dancing and group photos included. (I despise the fact that my first 'will you be my girlfriend, I like you' happened on the most pathetic day for saps of the year. I have never liked the day, and never found this coincidence to be all that romantic. I'm a realist, not a dreamer.)

Things were good. We had fun hanging out with friends, talking on the phone until way too late, and just being normal confused 15 year olds. Well, this "puppy love" continued for about 3 months. Then the second phase of our relationship began. This was the "I think we should take it to the next level, but I'm too dip-shit scared to start" phase. A lot - I repeat, a lot, of sweaty hand holding took place at this phase. The Great Salt Lakes and "kiss tension." [I say "kiss tension" because sexual tension was too far out of reach].

Phase 2 continued on for about a month.

Then we hit the 4.5 month mark. Still, no smooching. It was getting uncomfortable. He'd walk (Yes, walk because neither one of us drove!) me home, we'd stand there in silence looking at our feet. I'd always get super impatience (and insecure) so I'd run inside and slam the door in his face. To hell if I was going to be making the first move - he was the boy!

We crept to month 5 - and that was it. We were going to lock lips. No more of this pussy footing around it - it was going to happen. I distinctly remember going out that day and knowing I was not leaving until it happened. I was determined. It didn't help that the week before he flat out said to my face that we had never kissed. Just as he puckered up, I fled. My first kiss was not going to be so forced, damn it. However, with him being so blunt I knew I had to "put out" or hit the high way. I did still like the kid, so breaking up was out of the question.

That next weekend we went for a ride - he was on his bike, I was on my roller blades. It was swell. We were cruising around the 'burb on a spring/summer day and it was all good. As we started to head back home, I started to get really nervous, even if I was not backing down. We stopped at what would become our "infamous" corner and did the usual - talked, awkward stares, uncomfortable giggles, talked...etc. This continued on for about 10 minutes. [Editor's note: I am still on my roller blades at this point and balance is not my strong suit.] Then it came. I think we both knew it was now or never. We leaned in and ....

whooooooooosh. It was over. It hadn't even started and it was over.

What the fuck? I waited my whole adult life for this - a 1/2 second kiss?

I was so unsatisfied with the lack of kiss that I bladed home. The whole way home I remember thinking how my parents, relatives...etc. had kissed me on the lips for longer than that stupid, lame-ass kiss. What a frickin' waste of dream!

We did improve, and in writing this I realize that I should write about my second kiss. [That one instead of being the shortest kiss ever, could be classified as one of the sloppiest messes of a kisses I'd ever received. That is, however, besides the point. This is about firsts. ;))].

Wonder if the feeling was mutual? Guess the world may never know. :P