This post was written for the the Remember the Time Blog Hop hosted by The Waiting. This month we are asked to remember our first kiss.
When I think back to my first kiss I can recall the place (overlooking a graveyard), the time of year (a dark and cold winter’s evening), the ambience (my father might appear at any moment), but not the boy’s name.
I was a very young fifteen year old and had spent the previous two years suffering a massive crush on the older brother of a friend of mine from school. When he noticed me at all it was not in the way that I wanted. I had managed to collect a sample of his handwriting and a photograph of him from the local paper, both of which I cherished. It was a sad tale of unrequited love.
At the end of the summer I had arranged to go on a church trip, purely because I knew that my beloved would be there. When I arrived at the coach pick up I eagerly looked around, only to find him in the company of a girl! Turns out they had become a couple without my knowledge. Summer love had happened but not for me, I was heartbroken.
In the coming months I went from hurt to anger to a sad acceptance of my fate as impossible to love. I also recovered from my crush.
As the year progressed the church arranged a disco for it’s young people and, for reasons which I cannot now recall, I decided to attend. I had never been to a disco before, and have never been to one like it since. Held in a smallish room at the back of the church hall it cannot have been particularly well attended, but that is not what comes to mind when I recall that night. I remember it because it was the first time that a boy I did not know asked me to dance.
I was there with my cousin, and my father was due to walk us home when it ended at 10pm. Dancing with this boy was utterly thrilling because, well, he was a boy. It was also highly embarrassing as there was a risk that my father might appear at any moment, eager to whisk me off home.
When boy suggested that we go outside I had no idea why (I really was naive) but could think of no reason to refuse. To get outside we had to leave the small, dark, back room and walk through the well lit main hall. Never has a walk felt so long and awkward. Neither of us said a word, we just marched on through, on a mission. I think he might have tried to take my hand, but I was far too intent on reaching our destination to take notice of such details.
We reached the door and stepped outside where, at the top of the steps, with the strains of ‘The Pretenders’ drifting out from behind us, he put his arms around me and kissed me. My first ever kiss.
I’d like to say that it was awesome, or perhaps even that he was so moved by the experience that he tried for more, something that would have totally freaked me out at the time. Instead, mission accomplished (or perhaps now eager to escape) he pulled away, turned around, and walked back through the hall with me tripping along a few steps behind. Still, not a word was said as I returned to my cousin and, rather too soon after this for my peace of mind, father appeared to walk us home.
Just before I left boy suggested that we meet up the following week and I agreed. I turned up at the designated meeting point and waited for over an hour. Although he stood me up he must have checked to see if I had been more willing than he. My lengthy wait was ended when a friend of his walked over to tell me that boy was not going to be there after all. I wonder if they were entertained or embarrassed by my willingness to hang around for so long.
I walked home chastened, but still hugging the experience to my longing, aching, teenage heart. A boy had asked me to dance and had kissed me. Perhaps, one day, I would find love after all.
You can check out the other posts in this Blog Hop by clicking on the link below.