Sunday, March 27, 2005

The 10th Anniversary of My First Kiss

Easter, 1995. I was 13 and in the 8th grade at James Bridger Junior High School.

His name was Eric, and he was a freshman at Fort Osage High School. The only thing was, he had a horrendous speech impediment and pronounced his name "Ewic." We met at Praise Tabernacle Church when he was visiting with some religious friends. It was love at first sight when he boarded the PTC van and said "Hi, I'm Ewic." We proceeded to talk on the phone a lot and occasionally sit next to each other in church. After about 3 weeks, I invited Eric over for Easter dinner with my 'rents.

My mom was in the kitchen making dinner, and Eric and I were hanging out in my room with the door open, because that was the rule. Eric and I were playing Mario Paint on my Super Nintendo when he suddenly went in for the kiss. His lips met mine. My eyes were wide open, and then I remembered I was supposed to close them, so I did, as I fumbled my tongue, not quite knowing what to do with it. I opened my eyes again, forgetting I had to keep them closed. The next few kisses of my life went like this. Eyes open. Closed. Open. Closed. Open. Then we stopped kissing and resumed our game of Mario Paint. Didn't say a word about the kiss. It obviously wasn't his first kiss, but oh, it was mine.

The next time Eric came to visit, his hand went up my shirt. When it touched my uber-padded bra, I flinched. I remember him touching my boob, wondering why is he touching my boob? This isn't fun for me. It's so tiny, surely he's not getting pleasure out of this. He must think I like it, but I don't. And here I am, trying to close my eyes, work my tongue magic and get his hand off my chest. A horrible situation for an 8th grader to deal with.

A few more weeks into our relationship, Eric and I were talking on the phone. He begged me to sing Janet Jackson's "Again" to him. Apparently he loved singers. I was a horrible singer, but I tried my best to get my vocal chords to match the notes. He was in high school, and I wanted to impress him. And kiss some more. He lied and said I wasn't a bad singer. Our next phone conversation went something like this:

Me: What's wrong?
Eric: I don't think I can see you anymore.
Me: Why?
Eric: I just love you too much. I don't want you to get hurt.
Me (in tears): OK. Bye.

I hang up the phone, actually thinking Eric is a nice guy because he really loves me. I mean, he loves me too much to go on. How sweet is that? I was 13. My first introduction to male bullshit. (No offense guys, but some of you can be full of shit, as am I at times.) A few years later I was happy to run into Eric and learn that he never got his speech impediment fixed.

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