If you missed it last week, I started a new feature/series on my blog: FIRST KISS FRIDAYS. Readers are encouraged to send stories of their first kisses ever, first kisses with boyfriends/girlfriends, ex-boyfriends/girlfriends, handsome/beautiful strangers, husbands/wives, you get the idea... It will be TOTALLY ANONYMOUS so feel free to divulge!
Please send your stories to firstname.lastname@example.org
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I had just entered into the world of teenagers. A lot of changes were happening within AND on my body. I remember sitting at Mr. Biggs with my sister and mum. We had just met Daniel Wilson… remember him? Call me Daniel Wilson, and I’ll play you Ragamuffin. I was giddy with excitement as I loved the song and I have/had the tendency to get star-struck. I went to the restroom and hurriedly came out to inform my mum that my first period was upon me. She hugged me and when we got home, I got to hear (again) the proverbial Birds and Bees talk. I was armed with the knowledge that I could get pregnant if I had sex with a boy, even though I didn’t figure out how sex worked until I was almost twenty. Entering teenage-dom meant puberty, and not only did I begin to develop breasts that would eventually become DDs, I started becoming interested in boys… LOTS OF BOYS!
I was such a shy child. I preferred playing by myself or only with people I was comfortable with. I didn’t like attention and would shrink in crowds. That turned upside down very quickly. While I was still quiet, I began to want attention – from boys. I was small, dark, developing and discovered a penchant for miniskirts. My favorite was a royal blue spandex one my aunt from England had gotten me. When I wore that skirt, I felt eyes on me and I relished the knowledge that I wasn’t so invisible anymore. I began to hang out at the weekend spot more often – going swimming, to the video store, and watching boys play basketball.
One weekend, I met up with my best friend (a boy, of course) to go swimming. While we were there, he introduced me to his friend, Donald. I was 13 or 14, but I was instantly attracted and drawn to him. We didn’t speak much on that first meeting. The next time we met, he didn’t remember who I was! But I wasn’t fazed and I reintroduced myself. If you ask him today, he’ll tell you that I chatted him up the first time we met, lol. After that second meeting, we became friendly. He lived in the estate and we started calling each other on the phone – not after 9:00PM or I would get in trouble with my mum.
The summer holiday came, and this meant we could see each other more often, without the threat of being caught by parents who’d gone to work. We took walks together, holding hands, talking and laughing about everything. I had fallen HARD for him. I wondered what it would be like to kiss him. I’d been kissed before but it wasn’t “sweet.” One afternoon, Donald stopped by my house and that day we stood outside talking. Something had shifted in the air that day. I was leaning with my back on my dad’s Santana (or maybe it was the Jetta) with Donald standing in front of me. His voice got progressively lower as we talked. And then he asked me the question… “Can I kiss you?” My heart skipped several beats, my breathing becoming heavier (and not due to asthma, this time) and I smiled and said, “Yes.” He leaned in ever so slowly and my eyes fluttered close just before his lips touched mine. His lips were soft, yet firm and we kissed slowly, seemingly forever. That was my first inkling of what passion was.