My first kiss was when I was in pre-school (I said I was a scorpio, right?). But my first real kiss–a kiss with someone I really liked–was when I was thirteen. We had no idea what we were doing. I remember our teeth clinking up against one another’s, standing on my grandfather’s front porch.
Those were important times. It’s not just the first actual kiss. It’s the first few that are usually memorable. But when you’re just hooking up with people, they’re so extremely forgettable. It’s something that you’re sure happened but don’t recall anything about it.
I recently had another type of first kiss. Although, technically, we’ve kissed before. A lot. I guess it’s weird that I don’t know when or how we first kissed. It just started happening randomly. But it’s been a while since then. Like long enough for kids to be born. More than one.
It was the middle of the day on a hot winter day. I happened to have an hour free. He happened to be picking up. We were five minutes away from each other. So we met up like we had been for a few weeks already.
I kind of knew a kiss was coming at some point. But I was still in that phase like so is this guy going to make a move or what?
But when we finally kissed I was reminded of my own body. It was like I was an inch away watching on. He felt like a new person. I mean, I was high, but it was still like a first kiss. Like a real kiss.