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OK, so there technically wasn’t a second or a third time, but let’s embellish for a moment, mostly because Desert Rose came on while on my drive to work and that got me to thinking about the first time someone really grabbed my hair and initiated some lip on lip action.

I was in the 9th grade and as usually I was about to “make it happen” with someone half my size who was also my best friend. In high school, the majority of my friends were dudes and if I did find myself with a majority of girls, you could bet your bottom dollar I was doing everything I could to migrate to the group of guys standing near us.  I wasn’t a slut.  I wasn’t a slut until college.  I just enjoyed being in a PMS-free atmosphere.

So there we were completely uninterested in each other sexually or emotionally, but we made that deal that if we haven’t kissed someone before freshman year was out we’d do it to each other.  

Fast forward to Sophomore Year.  Teacher parking lot.  3pm.

It was awful.  First of all, there is nothing sexy or fun about making out with a stick shift in between the two of you and the slight chance of there being an audience  (unless you are on the set of Grease).  Especially if one of your parents works for the school. Secondly, back then everything was in the moment.  No time to sneak to your apartment to brush your  teeth; no time to pull out your  compact to wipe away any eye boogers…nope it is just you, him, afternoon rain and Sting singing about a flower in the fucking desert.

Little did I know that at the age of 15 I was starting the first of many “awful first kiss experiences.”

There was my first alcohol induced kiss with my ex best friend’s ex boyfriend.  I can’t say much was memorable, but I do recall bad breath, clanking teeth and then a horrible pit in my stomach afterwards which I later learned was less a feeling of guilt and more the after effect of Tequila.

Equally as awful was my first “pretend kiss”.  In this event I pretended to enjoy Nascar, pretended to be the “cool” girl who didn’t mind his chewing tobacco habit and then also pretended  to laugh at his horrible sense of humor. I pretended for about another week to like the guy and then I eventually pretended to lose his number.

Then there was my first kiss with someone who was better than me.  Anyone who tells you there’s no such thing as “dating down” is full of crap.  I “dated down” for years, but you eventually come out of that coma and realize that relationships don’t progress because you are (in fact) too good for the guys your are seeing.  But what about the opposite end: “dating up?”  Well, as it turns out that’s not so great either.  This leads us to the first time I kissed a boy who was too good for me.  I was in my very early 20’s (not long ago) and I was pretty much forced into going out with this guy through work.  It was then I learned he had graduated second in his class not too long ago, was involved in several charities and had just gotten back from his summer mission trip to Ethiopia. It all hit me at once, I realized this just wasn’t going to work for me.  I wish I could say that I tried to shut him up by kissing him, but he was actually pretty modest and when I realized he was being a perfect gentleman, I just had to kiss this guy and true to my slutty form, I planted one. Awful again.  Not only was this my first moment of kissing someone better than me, but this was also my first experience with a guy who has really thin hard lips.  Apparently two negatives don’t equal a positive.

I wish I could say that I ignored his calls, but considering he’s better than me, he saw right through my trash.  He never called me again…in fact, I called him.  Twice.  Then I stalked him on Facebook for a little while until I got bored.  Nothing creepy, right?

So, I’m not saying that every Sting song reminds me every sweaty, smelly and awkward kiss I ever had, but this morning as I pulled into work, I smiled a little bit thinking back to my first kiss.  Unfortunately, by lunch I ended up recapping all my other terrible first kisses.  Then by 4pm I wasn’t smiling anymore.  Damn you, Sting!

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