Hello, awesome readers!
Here I was, working on a blog post – with another, perhaps more relevant topic – when suddenly I felt compelled to write about my first kiss. And by “first kiss”, I mean with someone that I was not related to at the time. Nor did we become related through eventual marriage because at some point we outgrew each other.
Which is understandable considering we were six years old at the time.
His name was, say, Sebastian. I can’t mention his real name because even though we haven’t seen each other in several decades, we’re still friends on Facebook and that could get awkward. The only thing I can divulge is that he was a boy and as far as I know, is still a boy because he shares pictures of his kids and grandkids.
(I share this because the world has gone gender-bender crazy since then. It was a different world.)
The entire first kiss thing happened so quickly that to be honest, I’m surprised I still remember it.
We were in the coat room at the back of our grade one classroom and for some reason we were alone. All our other classmates were already outside, playing in the heap of Canadian winter snow.
Why were we alone, I ask myself. Where was Mrs. Roy, our teacher?
Perhaps we had lingered behind on purpose. As uninitiated explorers in the ways of romance, perhaps we were simply destined to kiss that day. Who knows. All I remember is a few slow-motion seconds of eyes-closed faces approaching each other towards a very brief and slight touching of the lips (no tongues were involved) and *POOF* the moment was over. We were no longer greenhorns in the ways of love.
That’s when I scrambled to quickly finish putting on my snow pants so that I could run outside and tell my friends what had just happened.
“Sebastian kissed me!
SEBASTIAN KISSED ME!”
(The words still ring in a far corner of my brain. Except with the boy’s REAL name.)
Looking back, I’m pretty sure that’s the reason why it was our last kiss and the reason why that first kiss didn’t evolve into marriage, despite us being six years old at the time.
Do you remember your first kiss? I’d love to hear your story. Let’s reminisce together! Share in the comments!
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Mona Andrei is an award-winning humour blogger and author known for her entertaining perspective on life’s quirks. In her most recent book, SUPERWOMAN: A Funny and Reflective Look at Single Motherhood, she shares a personal journey filled with challenges and triumphs, intertwining stories and insights from single mothers around the globe.
When Mona isn’t writing, ten times out of nine, you’ll find her practicing her dance moves. As a member of a competitive hip hop team, she likes to think that she’ll stay young and cool forever. She may be delusional.
I think I was 7. Sitting on the steps to nowhere of a house that served as our “American” school in Vitoria, Spain. He was intentional (polite of him to ask, right?). I don’t remember much else except the sunshine and cool air.
Wow! Very polite. And in Spain. Nice!
I was 11 (late bloomer, I guess) and was going to sleepaway camp. We had mixers (if you can imagine a dance with male 10 and 11 year old campers on one side and 10 and 11 year old female campers on the other side) and believe it or not, I met a boy that night. At this camp there wasn’t that much in the way of co-ed activities but we managed to have a sort of relationship including a very shy first kiss for me from him. It didn’t light up the sky with fireworks but I guess at that age no kiss would have. At the end of the three week session we exchanged addresses (we both lived in New York City but in different boroughs) and wrote each other for a brief time. Know what? I can’t even remember his name at the moment!
Too funny. So many details except his name 🙂
I think I was 11! Always the late bloomer. He was a boy in our neighborhood and the cool guy. And that was it, never again.
Isn’t it funny how these seemingly insignificant happenings stay in our minds. It may be the same for all firsts, if you’re sentimental.