SJ's post about her first kiss got me thinking about mine because they are somewhat similar. But it's what made them different that is the funniest part.
I was 14 and headed into eighth grade... and I was a big dork. Braces, those curled-up bangs, button-down shirts worn over jeans that were pegged at the bottom, white Keds, the whole nine yards. My family has a cottage and twice a summer, the beach association would hold a block dance, where they would have a bonfire and hire a DJ to play music. My family always went and I usually brought along a few friends.
At this particular one, I was dancing in a circle with a few friends, when this older guy (which would later become the theme of my dating life, by the way) asked me to dance. He was in high school so it was all a little scandalous. He hung out with us for the rest of the night, then walked me back to the cottage and kissed me in the backyard. (And, like SJ knows exactly what song was playing, I remember the gum he was chewing... and anytime I smell that brand, I'm instantly brought back to my first kiss).
OK, here's where SJ's story is cool and mine is not. While her first-kiss guy went on to participate in the Olympic trials, mine went off to college... and became a cheerleader.
So many books...
10 years ago
3 comments:
Oh dear, was he experimenting at being straight when he kissed you, but decided it was too nasty and horrid so became the gay cheerleader that he always knew he should be?
14! you had a two year head start on me.
although, i like to think that i've since made up for lost time ;)
That is hilarious!!
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