The year is 1993. The fashion is baggy jeans and heavy eyeliner, and the latest obsession is Jason Donovan, Take That, East 17, and, in fact, just about anything male with a pulse. The soundtrack of my life is anything that resonates feelings of love and lust, and the boyfriend of the moment (and the one with whom I shall lock tongues with for the first time ever) is David.
David is cool in the way that all boys who are a couple of years older than you at age 14 are cool. He wears his jeans really low, bathes in a tub filled of lynx body spray, spikes his hair in an unruly fashion, and gives little time or regard to the art of conversation or human interaction.
The setting is my bedroom, and the moment is early evening. The TV blares out another drama filled soap as we sit side by side in
awkward comfortable silence on the bed, our hands touching ever so slightly and our pinkies intertwined.
If I was expecting my first kiss to be like something from the movies, I can safely say I was extremely disappointed. In fact, if anything, it was over so quickly that it’s hard to recall it at all. But what I do remember is that there was no build up. David didn’t caress my face, stroke my cheeks and tilt his lips delicately towards me, so much as throw his arms around me in a bear hug, push me down on the bed, and proceed to mush and gyrate his lips against mine rather representative of an out of control washing machine with a leaking slobbery valve.
It’s sad but true that during and after the kiss, there were no fireworks in the room that day. In fact, there wasn’t even so much as the fizzle of a dying sparkler. There was no gazing admiringly at each other or any declarations of love, and there was certainly no urge to return for a second go.
Instead we sat
awkwardly companionably in silence for the remainder of our ‘date’, and both breathed a sigh of relief when the sound of his Mum’s car horn outside the house signalled the time had come for us to part ways that day.
The year is 2013 and lots has changed. For example, the fashion is now baggy to cover my stomach and heavy eyeliner to cover my bags. The obsession is sleep and anything remotely relaxing, and the soundtrack to my life is anything that is silent. However, the kissing is probably what has changed the most and, whilst it’s still not like the movies, I can definitely say that like a good wine, it does get better with age.
This post has been written in conjunction with Kerri Sackville’s ‘My First’ Challenge