Do You Remember Your First Kiss?

Do You Remember Your First Kiss?​


Yes
Yes I do

(This question keeps being asked, so......I keep posting this little story)

It was a kiss.....but not a kiss


Gurls

My first real girlfriend, other than dancer number three from the Jackie Gleason Show, was Patricia.
Fourth grade I think it was.
She had this smile, this beguiling smile, and if per chance she cast one your way, well, it turned all us guys into befuddled masses of profound stupidity.
I was no exception…and she knew it.

So every time she would come near, or I mysteriously found myself near her, I’d make sure and do something cool, like flip my fountain pen up in the air and nonchalantly catch it, writing side down.
Unknowing that I’d just sprayed myself with a unique pattern of Sheaffer traditional blue ....Boob, James Boob.

Oh, yeah, and her eyes…flashing, batting brown eyes….and some kinda smell too..better than, say, my catcher’s mitt, or even gramma’s rhubarb pie.

That’s all I remember about her looks.
Didn’t even consider the shape of her hind end, or if she even had one for that matter.

One blessed day her parents invited my parents to dinner.
I sat across the table from her, sipping my shaken not stirred fruit punch, creating a rather distinguished looking purple mustache.

These folks had lived outta the states for a few years, and rather proudly offered up their unusual cuisine.
There, on my plate, was a heaping festering mound of curry and rice. Not the spicy curry of the orient, no, this was some sorta green slimey slices of slug guts.

Patricia smiled at me.

I forked the slug slices, and moved them around my plate, mustering and encouraging my life long taste buds for fried potatoes, hamburger patties and ketchup.
I furtively went to the potatoes.
Only they were swimming in some sorta gawd awful milk sauce...not fried, definitely not fried.
I think I had two bites, feigning nausea, gladly skipping dessert which looked much like mousse of dog vomit.

Patricia invited me up to her room (HER ROOM!!!), upstairs.

And there I was, in a gurl’s room.

Puffy, fuzzy things.
Pink things.
Lacy, frilly things.
Some sorta awning of posts and frilly cloth over her bed.
Pillows, stuffed toys, more pillows, more toys.

So there we were.
‘Nice place ya got here’ (I almost said ‘doll face’, but somehow knew my Bogart wasn’t working any better than my Bond).

‘You are in third place on my list.’

(‘what? There’s a list?’)

‘If you kiss my locket, you’ll be at the top.’

(‘If I kiss her locket?’)
(‘what the heck is a locket?’)

She pulled a dainty gold chain from where, I’d discover years later, cleavage came from.
Her locket was a little gold heart.
I felt really really stupid.
Here I was, in a gurl’s room, with all this claustrophobic crap, and even considering kissing her locket for cryin’ out lowd.
Get me the heck outta here!

(bat, bat, smile)

S-o-o-o-o after I kissed her locket, landing me solidly into first place, we went downstairs.

Funny thing. Next day at school, I took on a much different persona.
My once pitter patting heart went back to a normal beat.
Her smile took on a more sneer like function.
Her batting eyes became nothing more than a possible Tourette.
Her smell took on the odor of curry.
Basically, she disgusted me, and less than 24 hours ago, I kissed her locket...damn.

My first fleeting relationship.

Not for locker room lore.
 

I can't remember, but a little girl I played with in elementary school, said I kissed her when her much older sister told us we should kiss. The girl told me about it a number of times, but I don't know if she remembered or was just telling what her older sister said. When it supposedly happened was before we started kindergarten. I may not have been old enough to form long sentences at the time. Anyway that little girl and I were the best of pals through late elementary school, until she moved away and we lost touch.
 
Another related question would be, "What was the first kiss that you remember?" Even that I would have to think about.
 

I was 10 or 11 and at summer camp.
It was a girls camp and on the last day they held a Sadie Hawkins dance with the boys camp.
I chased around a scrawny boy with curley locks and braces. I thought he was cute. He agreed to attend the dance with me.
His name was Chuckie Finger.
After the dance he planted a painful kiss on my lips as his braces hurt! But it was fine. I was kissed!
In the van on the way back all the girls were giggling and talking about our escapades.
Someone noticed some (unrelated to Chuckie) spots on my gold knit sweater in my chest area. "Chuckie Finger's fingers!!!" was the chant and we laughed and laughed all the waback and until we almost peed ourselves.
Great memory I'll never forget.
I wonder what became of Chuckie. He seemed like a good kid.
 
hearlady said:
I wonder what became of Chuckie. He seemed like a good kid.
Click to expand...
There are a few people named that on FB... well, Charles. But if you ever feel the urge to check up on Chuckie, I'll share that the last 3-4 times I got curious about old boyfriends, I found them all in the obits. Every.Single.One. 😿 Never again. And I'm only 65! Curiosity salted my snail but good.
 
First was on the playground, girls chasing boys. We caught one and then the girls got in trouble. The less said about this episode, the better. It certainly wasn’t worth all that writing on the blackboard.

First real kiss was when I was 14. I was so impressed with that guy and he turned out to be such a jerk. Good life lesson though. Funny thing was I ran into him a couple of years later and he wasn’t attractive at all when I was 16. :LOL:
 
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