I fall into a small category. Not only can I tell you about my very first kiss back then, but I can also compare it to present day. It's a classification I like to call "Spin the Bottle: Chapter 2".
I was in the sixth grade. My best friend, Annie, was able to convince her conservative, Catholic parents she should invite the boys from our class to the party. Up to this point, all her parties had been girl only, with the only exception of her father, brother, and one male cousin.
We were further astonished when Annie's parents agreed to host the party at night! Twelve year old boys and girls hanging out after dusk. She must have caught her mother after she had sucked down her nightly white zinfandel.
So there, fortified by the bravery only darkness can offer a group of twelve year olds, we played "spin the bottle and around the corner". Never heard of "around the corner"? We tagged that on our childish, sophomoric, little selves. We needed privacy to guard us from embarrassment and the heckling of our peers.
So there, among the stinky aluminum garbage cans in Annie's side yard, Jack quickly kissed me. I suppose it was a typical first kiss. Awkward, uncomfortable, and...and...hard. Yes, his lips were hard, not soft like my light blue, satin pillow case with the Shaun Cassidy iron-on I had so diligently and religiously practiced on for what was to be an idyllic moment in my young life. I felt deflated. The moment did not meet my expectations. I wasn't even sure if it was diary worthy.
Almost two decades later, I found my divorced self sitting on Jack's sofa. We had enjoyed an evening of laughter, reminiscing, and nostalgia. We were leaning our faces towards one another, with the inevitable about to happen...again!
This internal conversation raced through my head:
Will this be better than the last time?
Of course, it will! He was only 12. Boys don't practice kissing like girls do!
Does he still have wood lips?
For Pete's sake, woman! Give it a rest! Relax. Enjoy. He's had almost two decades of experience since the last time.
Oh, Dear God! Are you listening?
I don't like hard lips. I like soft, smushy lips. Loose lips. Lips that will meld with mine. That's what I want.
As we leaned into each other, closer and closer and closer, my insides are yelling, "Oh, please, oh, please, oh, please, oh, please! Soft lips, soft lips, soft lips!"
And finally, after almost exactly twenty years, our lips came in contact again. This kiss was longer. This kiss may have even burned a couple more calories than the first, but there remained one constant...
In his thirties, Jack still had wood lips.

OMG. Poor Jack.
ReplyDeleteNo kidding! He went on a finally married. Every now and then when I think of him, my mind immediately goes to his wife and all I can do is feel sorry for her. So bad!
Deleteoh, em. i sure do love you :)
ReplyDeleteHehe! Awe, thanks! Muah back to you!
DeleteThis is so funny! And love love that you had a Shaun Cassidy iron-on pillowcase ;)
ReplyDeleteIt was a prized possession in my youth!
DeleteOh, no. Poor Jack. Poor you.
ReplyDeleteIt was bad. I left as quickly as I could!
DeleteOh, no! Once a bad kisser, always a bad kisser...
ReplyDeleteI was praying for improvement over the decades....
DeleteThis is hilarious. Does Jack read your blog? I loved your description of the whole event. The darkness, and the stinky trash cans. It took me back to my first kiss with Joe Kozusko. His lips were just fine.
ReplyDeleteOh gosh, no!! Lucky, you got good lips!
DeleteOh NO! I was so hoping this story was going to have a happy ending. You were going to weave the wood lips into "flaming embers that kept on burning" or something like that. Nope. Oh, Jack. Oh, you. But, great post! :)
ReplyDeleteNo, nothing there. But I'm happy it worked out the way it did. I'm in a great place with my Doc H (who has great lips, by the way!).
DeleteThank you!
Noooo!!! Great build up to the final reveal. Poor old Jack.
ReplyDeleteThank you!!!
DeleteBhahaha. Great story. But poor Jack and his wooden lips. Hopefully someone teaches him how to use them properly, and maybe apply some chapstick.
ReplyDeleteHe's married now. I hope his wife was able to be honest with him and give him some pointers.
DeleteI was so hoping those wood lips would have become something more pulpy, bummer! Great story:-)
ReplyDeleteIt was so bad! You have NO idea!
DeleteHowever, I must say, I did have a good time getting together with my girlfriends from elementary school and telling them the story a few days later! Ha!
That is an amazing story! Wow. Then and now. Too bad some things don't change. Ellen
ReplyDeleteIt's okay. I'm happy the way things are now! :)
Deleteall those years and Jack didn't get any better? perhaps he should be the one practicing with your Shaun Cassidy satin pillow case?
ReplyDeleteExactly!! Maybe he needed a Farrah Fawcett pillow case... Did they have those?
DeletePoor Jack. Maybe you changed his name to project the wooden lipped. Maybe it should be poor-all-the-women-who-have-kissed-Jack? Couldn't he have learned a thing or two?
ReplyDeleteI did change his name.. All names are changed on this blog. He was never the smartest guy in the class... I
Delete"Shaun Cassidy iron-on"<--HA!
ReplyDeleteI love the twist at the end.
Thanks!
Delete"after she had sucked down her nightly white zinfandel." You nailed that one. I also was brought up in a rigid Catholic household so I got the set up. I never expected in the end that Jack's lips were still like wood. Oh no!
ReplyDeleteThanks! His poor wife.
DeleteLOL. This reminds me of my first kiss (though it was admittedly in the 10th grade). We were playing spin the bottle and I ended up having to kiss a boy that I had kind of crushed on. It was the sloppiest kiss ever and I was totally turned off. I told my best friend it was like kissing a wet fish. She, in turn, told him this ... and he never spoke to me again (walk of shame). Thank goodness high school is over!
ReplyDeleteUgh! I don't know what's worse!
DeleteHow do I know this was a good post? I sat here flexing my lips trying to see if I could make them wooden.
ReplyDeleteHa! Thanks, Joe!
Deletehahaha i LOVE the inner dialogue- spot on! poor Jack and his wooden lips.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Christina!
DeleteI am a firm (not wooden) believer that once a bad kisser, always a bad kisser.
ReplyDeleteLoved your internal dialogue. Hilarious!
Thank you!
Deletesuch a sad, sad tale told so well :)
ReplyDeleteThanks, Tara!
DeleteYuck! Dealbreaker!!! :) Great, great story.
ReplyDeleteAbsolute deal breaker! I couldn't get out of there fast enough!
DeleteHA! Here I thought poor Jack would be "the one" the second time around! Good try, Jack, good try.
ReplyDeleteOh, no! My Doc H is "THE ONE"! :0)
DeleteLOL! Poor, Jack. I'm impressed you still remember your first kiss. I tried to the other day and realized not only do I not remember what the kiss was like, I don't even remember who it was with. :/
ReplyDeleteLips aren't the component of the male anatomy that most women want to be wooden. Bummer for Jack.
ReplyDeleteOh shoot! I was hoping for soft lips!
ReplyDeleteHaha, oh boy that was gooood! Not the wood lips part, but the fact that you had me so eager to find out how the second kiss went that I skipped to the end and had to reread it. Haha.
ReplyDeleteI think that means that you built up a great amount of suspense! Good job!
Oh no! I loved the tension in the buildup to the second kiss and the way it meant so much more the second time around.
ReplyDeleteHow did I miss this?! It's so funny! My first kiss was a kiss and run! He barely pecked me and then bolted out the door. I wasn't even sure that it had happened...lol!
ReplyDelete