I mostly write fiction but this is something else. A sort of ten minute essay/brain splurge of thoughts on my first kiss.
They tell you that your first kiss will stop all time, the world will blur at the edges and all of your senses will be focused on that one moment in time when your lips meet another’s.
The movies are bullshit.
At least in my experience, it was nothing like that. And it would be a couple more years before I had an explanation.
In truth, my first kiss was during a drunken game of spin the bottle with some friends but that doesn’t really count, not when it’s all girls and innocent kissing for a laugh. My “actual” first kiss was when I was around 19. A guy I’d known for a couple of years inexplicably wanted to date me. I said yes, because that little amount of attention was the first I’d ever gotten and the idea was thrilling, someone wanted to date me?! It was unheard of!
We had a pleasant time (if you’re reading this, it was very nice if a little awkward because I don’t know how to act in most social situations). He walked me back to the bus station to catch a bus home.
And we kissed.
In broad daylight in a crowded bus station.
It was a little awkward, to be sure.
I don’t think I need to mention that I had no idea what I was doing. Sure, all of my senses were focused on that one moment. But they were pinpointed on panic and wondering what to do with my face and my hands and my mouth.
It was not the music-swelling, heart-thumping, time-stopping first kiss I was sold as a kid.
It was fucking awkward and I didn’t enjoy a second of it.
I left pretty soon after that; the bus arrived I was not running away.
Then I ran away. I told him over the phone that I couldn’t see him because I was going back to university in a completely different town – let’s pretend buses and trains don’t exist.
I felt bad. I felt so bad that I cried and my parents couldn’t understand why.
I didn’t understand why.
I thought I liked him. I really just liked the idea that someone might find me attractive (and I hate that; I really hate it but socialisation is a hard habit to break).
I thought that was why I didn’t enjoy my first kiss.
I thought that if I had another I might enjoy that one more I thought there might be something wrong with me because I hated when a guy would try to talk to me in a bar.
Oh, the things I wish I had known when I was 19 and starting out as an adult in the world.
Maybe I wouldn’t have felt so broken, if only I’d had the words to describe what I felt.
If only someone had just mentioned the word ‘asexual’ in the first 20 or so years of my life.
Tales written from a prompt in just 10 minutes.
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