Not a lot leaves me stumbling for an answer with my children. They’ve asked me some pretty uncomfortable things so far and even though on the inside I’m squirming, on the outside I’m the picture of cool, calm, composed mom. Until the other night that is. While watching Back to The Future, my oldest turned to me and said, “Mommy, when was your first kiss?”
Bam! Blindsided. Damn you George and Lorraine. Damn you!!
Good grief, how do I answer this? It was a respectable Grade 8, but still I’m not ready to share that with my girls because, well, because they can’t date until they’re 30 right? So, when my girls kept asking me who my first kiss was, I was flooded with memories and got, well, I got flustered. And then said, “Did you hear that One Direction was going on tour next year?” and then continued to distract and evade until they gave up.
For what it’s worth, I don’t really remember my first kiss, the rather innocent smooch I’m sure we all have at some point. Apparently it was quite lacklustre, as I can’t recall the who, what, why of the situation. I do however remember my first “real” kiss. You know, the French kind. Oooh la la.
His name was Nick and he was an older, more worldly boy in Grade 9 and I was crushing madly on him. He was confident, funny and had this crazy thick blonde hair that stood up but looked dead cute on him. I was totally smitten. One day we went for a walk around the neighbourhood and he grabbed my hand and my heart started to beat a little faster. The wind was blowing and my hair kept getting stuck in my bubble gum flavoured Kissing Potion. I started to stress because my palms were getting sweaty and I thought for sure he’d run away completely grossed out. Instead he stopped at the chain link fence, brushed my hair gently out of the way and kissed me. Very softly and oh my, oh so sweetly. I’m not exaggerating in the slightest when I say that for weeks after that kiss, I could close my eyes and feel that weird, floaty sensation I had when he kissed me. Oooh weee, is it getting hot in here? *fanning self* Now that kiss left an impression.
When I asked my husband who his first kiss was, he got this stupid grin on his face and his ears got all red. “Annette,” he said in an almost hubba, hubba kind of tone. He didn’t have to say anything else. Apparently, Annette was memorable too.
It’s been a couple of days now and my girls have still not come back to the question. I’m hoping they’ll forget about it…until they’re 30 anyway.
When was your first kiss? Did it leave a good impression or a bad one? Do you know where your first kiss is today?
In a sad postscript, I found out many years ago that Nick’s life was cut short by cancer. Although we were no longer in each others lives at the time, he held a special place in my heart. Still does.