They say your first kiss is supposed to be amazing and that you’re supposed to feel like you’re floating, blah blah blah. They lie, okay?
My first kiss went nothing like this. (That song sucks, by the way. 3OH!3 – shame on you.)
I was eighteen. Back then I had tons of friends. First year of college, away from home, newly trim figure and all that, you know? Now that I think about it, I should actually say ‘acquaintances’, rather than ‘friends’. I was stupid and never knew the difference. And of course, none of these “friends” happened to go to the same college. They were all dental students.
Now, people would kind of make fun of you if you were a female medical student dating a guy from dental college. At the same time, nobody made fun of a medical college guy dating a dental college girl. Talk about double standards.
So anyway, this guy stole my number from one of my friends’ phones. And his amazing pick up line was, “I went through my junior’s phone, saw your messages, you seem fun, so I took your number. I hope that’s okay.”
Ooooh. I was getting hit on by an older guy! Imagine. Of course I was okay with it. He introduced himself on the phone the very next day, “Hey, I’m D. So nice to meet you. You sound so lovely on the phone. Can we pleasepleaseplease meet tomorrow?”
And all the while my screwed up little brain kept doing this over-excited little jig.
I had to work really hard not to sound too eager, so I just said, “Um. Okay. I have a curfew at my hostel. It has to be before seven pm.”
He told me he’d pick me up the next morning at eleven. I said okay. Calm. Then we hung up and I yelled to my roommate, “Oh my God I have a DATE!”
Much of that night was spent on deciding what to wear. Girls don’t want to look like they’re trying too hard. The next morning, I actually skipped breakfast, out of nerves. And finally, finally it was eleven. And I checked my hair in the mirror one last time, before I took the elevator downstairs.
He was waiting there. A giant, dark, hairy, meaty abomination of a person.
I know appearances shouldn’t matter. And I didn’t want to be rude. So I made myself walk towards him. He had a motorbike too small for his gluttony. I made myself sit pillion. All the while hoping he’d have a flat tyre or a family emergency and that we didn’t have to go out.
But no. The day was a disaster waiting to happen.
I don’t think I’ve ever been so quiet as I was that day. He kept going, I kept trying not to fall, he kept hitting the brakes on purpose, super frequently. What a nightmare.
Then he finally stopped. There’s a lake here, it’s pleasant and people sit on the pier and talk. I didn’t want to talk to him. I wanted to go home. We talked some. And then, suddenly out of the blue, he was holding my hand. A grizzly bear of a person holding my hand. Stroking the inside of my wrist.
And then ten minutes later, he was kissing me. I don’t even know how it happened. We were talking about completely random things! How did kissing happen? And I remember that kiss because it was… ‘Disgusting’ does not even begin to cover it. He had, I kid you not, beer breath.
And I remember feeling violated and wishing tongues didn’t exist.
After I got home, I brushed my teeth so hard my gums bled. And I’ve never been on a blind date since.