Remember your first kiss? How would you describe it? Was it thrilling, nerve-wracking, wonderful, awkward or sweet? Perhaps it was a combination of these things. I can truthfully say that mine was perfect.
I recently ran into my first kiss while visiting my hometown. He and I are now in our 30s, married with children, and we both like to brag about just how idyllic that moment was.
Close Your Eyes
My first kiss happened when I was 11 years old. The year was 1990 and I was in the fifth grade. Our moms were both teachers at our elementary school and often had classroom work to do after the final bell rang. He and I were in a small group of educators’ children who, after our classmates left for the day, had the playgrounds to ourselves. We enjoyed epic games of tag and hide and seek, and spent our afternoons together engaging in sweet and innocent fun.
One December afternoon, he confessed his feelings for me on the deserted playground by the twisty slide. I asked, “If you like me, then why do you chase me and tease me?” He replied, “Well, I don’t want everyone else to know I like you.” He then requested that we keep our relationship a secret, to which I agreed. We were officially boyfriend and girlfriend.
Throughout the school year, he flirted, wrote me notes and gave me trinkets to include a pen, a bracelet and a stuffed animal. He occasionally called my house and we’d have an awkward phone conversation as 11-year-olds do. I would blush and wrap myself in the long cord of our phone that was mounted to our kitchen wall. A highlight of our relationship was the evening that he called in an “electric dedication” to me that played over the radio waves of Z103. Our little romance made my heart feel full.
The epoque of our relationship occurred on our final day of elementary school. In the morning we participated in a convocation ceremony, where I, the student council president, gave a farewell and congratulatory speech. Afterward there was a dance, and he decided not to be secretive about our relationship any longer. We bopped to the upbeat music of the 1980s, and then we shared our first slow dance. I was on cloud nine.
Once the final bell rang and the other students left, he and I slowly meandered up the large hill beside our school. On top of this hill, as is common in Southern states, were majestic oak trees with thick trunks, full branches and hanging moss. He and I sat down behind the tree and spoke of our plans for the summer and what we thought middle school might be like. All the while, I felt butterflies in my stomach, and noticed that the air was filled with a thrilling new energy. I kept wondering if and when a kiss would happen.
It was about that time that I heard my mom’s voice calling to me from the base of the hill, letting me know that it was time to go home. Startled, he and I quickly jumped up as we realized that our window of opportunity was closing. He said something to me, which I can’t recall, but the next thing I knew, it was happening. My eyes closed and our lips sweetly pressed together for just for a few seconds, and then we embraced.
I was snapped out of my trance when my mom called to me a second time. I wished him goodbye and ran -- although it felt more like I floated -- down the hill. Everything about the moment was purely magical.
Kiss and Tell
That night, at my house, I had a sleepover with my best friend. She and I enjoyed pizza, root beer and watched The Little Mermaid on VHS. Once we were safely in the privacy of my bedroom, I relayed the details of our slow dance and our first kiss. I felt like I was on a high all over again. We whispered and giggled nonstop, much to the chagrin of my poor mom, who was trying to sleep.
He and I remained boyfriend and girlfriend for the summer, however, our relationship didn’t survive the first few weeks of middle school. Instead we agreed to move on as friends, and to this day, as adults, I consider him one. I thank him for playing a role in my life that I won’t soon forget, and cherish our special shared memory.