My First French Kiss

Girls were the last thing on my mind when I was younger. I was into cool stuff like Star Wars, comic books, horror movies, sports, etc. Come to think of it, these are still things I love today! Girls weren’t even on the spectrum, let alone my radar. What once was geeky is now considered “cool” and staples of pop culture. Sure, in my adolescence some girls had crushes on me, and I was not oblivious to this by any stretch of the imagination. I was just too much of a chicken-shit to do anything about it. What can I say? Girls terrified me!

Females made me nervous and, I hate to admit it, made me want to pass gas! The butterflies in my stomach I tell ya! It was all the more reason for wanting to stay away from girls altogether. I was all right with them as friends, but once there was any interest expressed on their part, pinch your nose and bring out the air fresheners!

My brother, who is a year older than I and in the eighth grade in at the time, was dating an attractive girl. She was a girl who all the guys in her class adored, and all the girls envied. One day after school, I was given the arduous task by my parents to go back inside the school to look for my two brothers so we can, you know, head home.

I found both my kin inside a kindergarten classroom where my older was smooching with his girlfriend and her equally cool best friend who was sporting a bright blue Columbia jacket which was all the rage at the time. I waltzed right into the classroom with a mission and, by God, I was going to complete that mission; I had to get home and get started on homework! I walked right up to my brothers, who was gushing over his “prize,” and was firm with my words to him. I looked him straight in the eyes and, without batting an eye, I said, “Ma and Pa are waiting for us outside.” You should’ve seen me; confidence was high!

That night, my older brother told me something that will change the course of my adolescence. He said, “Cool Girl #2 told me you were cute.” I was beyond flattered but didn’t gush over it. I took it more of a, oh, your little brother is cute where pinching my cheeks would have made her content.

The Party

 

That weekend, we threw a party. Yes, we were quite “known” for the secret parties we threw. Not because they were insane or anything but, rather, because we had a “good kids only” policy: no thugs, no hooligans, no troublemakers allowed! They were an invite-only event and pretty exclusive. We went to great lengths to make sure no one spread the word and were very particular with who we allowed at our events. The name of the game, however, was to invite as many girls as possible.

Guys were never the problem, but we needed there to be enough girls present or there simply would not be a party! And so, we compiled our list and released the birds with the invites in tow.

The party was a hit! I danced with so many girls, all of whom were older than I – eighth graders! The next day, I was handed/found notes/letters inside my desk! What was happening?! Why am I, all of a sudden, being recognized? All of the letters expressed how there were impressed with how I danced, and they were thrilled with having the opportunity to have danced with me – I kid you not! The bottom line was, I had a pick of the litter. No seriously, each letter ended with, “Do you want to be my boyfriend,” or something to that effect; I was so nervous, and the butterflies were in motion.

I tried to avoid all of the girls at all costs that Monday. I simply did not know what to do and was a nervous wreck, to say the least. I was only 11 years old and knew close to nothing about girls. It was a foreign concept; I’ve never even kissed one by French standards, that is. But, I knew that all eyes were on me, and I needed to make a decision. And before the week was over I made my decision and elected to be cool girl #2’s boyfriend.

Inauguration

 

That same weekend, it was our close friend’s turn to throw a party. Same rules applied and the celebration was to be a commemoration of my new “relationship.” My stomach was churning. I was not thinking about partying or dancing; I just wanted to be home, alone and watching a good sci-fi flick, heck, I would’ve even taken refuge under a rock. In other words, I just wanted to avoid the whole ordeal altogether.

But no, I didn’t want to disappoint my brother, my friends nor my new girlfriend for God’s sake – after all, I did circle “Yes” on the note that answered the question do you want to be my boyfriend? It was a binding contract handwritten on a sleeve of loose-leaf paper. And here was the day of our inauguration.

My friend’s dad was a superintendent of a building, and so the entire basement was his which meant plenty of room to dance and the concrete walls allowed for “extra loud” music. It was an ideal location for a party. We had purchased some red and blue light bulbs to keep the place dim, you know, to sort of set the mood. We had snacks and soda to feed the masses. All I had on my mind was facing my girlfriend, and so I didn’t have that much of a good time. Then, Cool Girl #1, my brother’s girlfriend, came up to me and informed me that Cool Girl #2 was waiting for me in the kitchen. What? Why?! Oh, but I knew why.

Time had slowed down as I glided into the kitchen. There she was, waiting for me. Her bangs nearly covered her eyes. A smile on her face revealed her shiny, metallic braces. They beckoned to me. A plethora of thoughts danced in my head. Will it be like when Luke kissed his sister, Leia, in Star Wars or like when Marty kissed his mom, Lorraine, in Back to the Future? I hoped it would be like neither.

No, no those are bad examples! Will the braces hurt me? What if I did it all wrong? Will I be the laughing stock at school come Monday? Will she cease to be my girlfriend after my kiss? How’s my breath?

My butt cheeks were working overtime as they were quenched together as if the hands of Olympus and Apollo were keeping them shut, preventing any semblance of a fart from retreating from within my innards while making my way towards her. It was one of the toughest walks I have ever made. Finally, my body thrusts towards her, and we collide. We look at each other, our faces only inches apart. It was a bit awkward, to say the least. Then, as if pre-programmed by stories, movies, and music videos, we followed protocol and closed our eyes. Then, our lips touched.

They just touched. I would be hard-pressed to qualify that as a kiss, and I think this girl agreed with that because, again, our lips made contact, this time with a little more pressure. Then, there was another, and another in rapid succession! This kissing thing is not so bad, I thought.

Then, I felt something “pointy” and “squishy” trying to penetrate the surface of my lips. I opened my eyes. We were so close that my eyes crossed and I saw two of her. What was happening?! It was her tongue! Then, the romance gods spoke to me from the ethos and said, “Ouvre ta bouche ton imbécile!” Somehow, I knew that translated to “Open your mouth your fool!”

And so, I did! My tongue pushed hers out of the way and made its way into her orifice. It wiggled left and right, up and down like an overexcited puppy unsure of which way to go. It slapped her tongue, polished her teeth, crashed onto the roof of her inner mouth, then hit her tongue some more; this didn’t feel right! I needed control, more rhythm. It wasn’t like I practiced with ice cubes (recommended to me by a classmate – this was long before the days of the internet). I was losing control and would be the laughing stock, but then, I heard it.

Use the force, Jon! Slow down, Jon!

And I did. And there it was, my rhythm. After that, it was smooth sailing. The crowd went wild; my brother and friends high-fived me, kids lined up on both sides threw confetti at us, Champaign-bottles popped, and Queen’s “We are the Champions” blared throughout the basement.

Epilogue

 

The rest of the party went off without a cinch. Monday came around, and I was strolling around with some of the older kids. Did that make me feel special? Not at all because that was not what I was all about. I was, however, happy to have a girlfriend. Of course, none of that celebratory nonsense occurred at the party actually happened. Life went on. Later that year also marked my first time going to the movies with my girlfriend. We watched The Bodyguard. I know, but hey, cool girl number one’s mother chaperoned, so there was no funny business. The relationship lasted for a little over a year because she ended up moving to Florida. Let’s be honest, yes, that was a big reason why it came to an end but, in reality, we were both children and knew that there was much more ahead for the two of us. Still, she will also be remembered by me as the girl who first frenched kissed me.

Save

Save

Save

Save

Save

Save

Save

Save

One thought on “My First French Kiss

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *