Saturday, March 1, 2008

Till I Kissed Ya


Today, while driving home from work, 'Till I Kissed Ya' by the Everly Brothers was playing on the Oldies radio station. Hearing it reminded me of my first experience with "real" kissing, or at least what seemed real when a girl was in seventh grade.

My Junior High school years were spent at Franklin Junior High in Pocatello, ID, one of four in the City. I had some interesting adventures while attending that school, one being introduced to a whole bunch of new kids who had spent their grade-school years in different schools than I had. Most of us were struggling with the changes from being little kids to becoming full-blown obnoxious teenagers. The girls were experimenting with make-up, hair color, and the latest styles in boy-attracting clothes. Our shapes and sizes covered a myriad of different degrees of development, some already wearing bras of various and sundry sizes, while others were spending their nights praying for those little buds on their chests to come forth and blossom and..........for some dream boat of a boy to notice.

The boys.............they struggled with their changing voices, prayed for the peach fuzz on their faces to change to real, scratch-your-face whiskers saturated in girl attracting Old Spice after-save. Other than that, they never grew up, as is common with the male species.

Well, after a couple of months of getting acquainted and establishing a group of special friends, both boys and girls, we started our three years of social activities at good old Franklin. One of the "Crowd", (as we called ourselves), Carol, was from one of the city's wealthy families. Late in the Fall of that year, Carol's parents agreed to allow her to have a girl/boy party at their home, a beautiful two story Colonial in a higher-end neighborhood of town. Of course our group was super hyped at the prospect of this party, the planning of which went on for about three weeks. No one had a "date" but we all had our hopes.

That Friday night finally came with each of us spending every minute. after school that day, getting beautiful for the 7:00 o'clock event. We primped, we giggled, we changed clothes, we primped some more, giggled some more, changed clothes again and again until we became what we considered an image of perfection. It was exhausting, I tell ya. Then we were off, driven by my brother Bob, to the place where new adventures would begin. It was a first time event for every person invited.

The house was gorgeous! It was large, decorated in the latest fashion and furnished to perfection. We were greeted at the door by the Maid who took our coats and showed us to the "Rec" room in the basement, another awesome sight for most of us who came from poor working families. Music was playing on the stereo, the lights were low, and a large table was laden with sandwiches, snacks, desserts and drinks, ready for our taking.

After all of the invited guests had arrived, there was a short period of awkwardness. Not having done this before, we weren't sure what to do, especially with the Maid hangin' around. She became bored with us quickly though, excusing herself to the upper living quarters, inviting us to have some fun and make ourselves at home. OK!

Soon we were singing along with the music, chatting, and some of us stumbling over our own feet, or the feet of some poor boy as we attempted to dance, again a first for most of us. This brought on laughter, wise cracks and teasing but we were having fun and getting more and more comfortable at our first boy/girl party.

It wasn't long before someone suggested we play "Spin the Bottle" and we all knew what that meant. Being rather bold and an adventure seeking person, I suggested we skip the little kids game, pick a partner and just start kissing. Surprizingly, I didn't have to say it twice, the partnerships had apparently been formed sometime during the two hours of dancing. I hadn't noticed because I was too busy chatting, snacking and trying to dance, at least once, with every boy there, whether they wanted to or not. I was having a ball but ended up without a partner.

So did Gordy H. We were good friends and weren't in the least bit interested in each other as a couple, but.........there we were, with no choice but each other. Other than a peck on the cheek from Eddie Dibble on the last day of sixth grade, my lips had never touched those of the opposite sex. To make matters worse, everyone else was waiting for me to be the first, or to put my money where my mouth was, no pun intended.

I gave Gordy a "Help Me!" look, he said "OK, let's do it." , took me in his arms and planted a quick, dry kiss on my pinched, tight mouth. It was awful! Everyone was tittering behind the hands which covered their mouths and I was beet-red and humiliated. However, I'm not a quitter, so I said, "Gordy, we're going to do this 'til we get it right!"

Get it right, we did. We even won the contest for the longest kiss that night....fifteen minutes!
We practiced until the kissing was perfect, our warm, soft lips embracing the other's tenderly. Gordy was my friend, and I his. We never kissed each other again after that delightful night.

Since then I've tasted some pretty good lips and some pretty damn bad ones, most of which are long forgotten memories, but Gordy's sweet lips will have a place in my heart forever because they were the first I ever tasted.

Fireworks Kiss Gordy loved the mouth thing, he grew up to become a Dentist. Life is good...............

1 comment:

Michelle said...

How special :)
Gotta love the first kiss!