>SUNDAY'S KISSES<

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Considering the number of guys I hung around with, my first kiss seemed relatively late to me. Although in retrospect, it made a lot of sense since I was a big participator in community theater and the guys I hung out with, although very sweet and great huggers, would later prance out of their respective closets in a cloud of feathers and sequins.  But there was this ONE guy who actually asked me out!  

We went to dinner and a movie and when he dropped me off, he preceded to kiss me.  Now, he had given me a few pecks before but this was like The Kiss. On The Mouth. With Tongue. Having only experienced French kissing from the scores of romance novels I had stolen from my mom’s bedside stand I felt…confused.  “What’s the matter?” he asked.  “Nothing, I’m just tired,” I replied, trying to seem cool.  So he gave me a peck and I went in the house.  My mom was still up and asked if I had a good time… “Yeah…” I said uncertainly, “but I don’t want to talk about it now…I’m going to bed.”  Went upstairs. Brushed my teeth.  Went to bed and I’m laying there and then, the mental light bulb went off and I finally got it. Luckily he tried again and I was much more enthusiastic.

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I grew up very ‘white-trash’ so I started out early. I was only 11 or 12 when I got my first ‘real’ kiss. His name was Jesse and I’d known him since we were little kids- we were in the same Sunday School class. He was also a year younger than me. The first time we kissed it was a chilly autumn night. We were out in the stix (my backyard, we lived in the center on a 3 mile dirt road, surrounded by woods and wildlife) talking and holding hands, giving each other little pecks here and there. The sky was brilliantly lit with a million dazzling stars and the air was so crisp and clean smelling. And he kissed me. Of course we didn’t know what the heck we were doing, and it was really gross back then, but it made me feel like I was one step closer to being a grown woman.

Oh yeah- this is important- my step dad had just gone back to prison. To this day I know the only reason that kiss ever occurred was because my step dad wasn’t there to scare the crap out of us.

Jeannie

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I was in the fifth grade and there was a boy in the classroom next to mine who kept on writing me love letters.  He was essentially a ten year old mack-daddy and was trying his luck with all the ladies in my classroom.  I fell for the bait and wrote him back.  I instantly became his girlfriend.  We made arrangements to hang out at recess and find a discrete location for our first kiss.  (So much for spontaneity!)  During my middle school years, playgrounds were being constructed mainly out of chemically treated wood and recycled tires.  We chose to huddle under a series of large tractor tires (the kind that are about 2 ft. wide and 4 ft high).  Facing eachother, we counted to five and kissed.

I have since enjoyed numerous other first kisses with other people that have required far less planning--and no stench of tire rubber.

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