My first kiss…

Yep.

My first kiss gets an extra ‘ugh’ when I think about it because I was a senior in high school when I finally reached this slobbery milestone. I was 17, cat lady single, and desperate to get my first kiss under my belt before college. Up until that point I would use that time in preschool when I kissed some kids back when we were playing tag on the playground as my ‘first kiss’ in order to keep myself from curling up into the fetal position every time boys were brought up in conversation. I am still unsure if I am proud or ashamed that that was the closest I had come to kissing a boy until that fateful evening 12 long years later.

Lets set the mood and do some math, shall we? The camera pans to two teens reeling in excitement from the homecoming dance, a sky sprinkled with stars, and an old blanket laid casually on a trampoline. It was scene you probably could have copied out of my fourth grade diary. If I would (could) have kept my streak going, they would have called me the trampoline tramp. Or not. They still would have called me Gertrude** because no one would ever believe a story where all the fellas were lined around the block for me/a trampoline.

**Name changed to protect author from embarrassment and being constantly photographed by the adoring public

Guys, first kisses are the worst. I for one had no idea what was happening…Was he trying to get my entire face covered in slobber? Is that what kissing was? Oh man I really know A LOT less than I thought. If it is actually possible for me to move on this trampoline right now what should I do with my hands? Should I close my eyes? He looks like hes sleeping…Oh no we just made eye contact, that was weird…I’m gonna close my eyes now…Is that mint? Chapstick, maybe? Oh my gosh, I bet my breath totally smells like those chips and salsa I ate earlier…

This is awkward.

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