First Kisses

Do you remember your first kiss?

I do, and I still get all swoony inside. I was a freshman, and Tony was a junior. Little did I know he had a reputation. Back when, he'd have been called a "rake".

Tony had some sort of built-in radar for the weak impala of the herd. High school terrified me, and I spent most of my time skulking around corners and hiding behind a book.

I didn’t have a lot of self-confidence back then, but I was a born flirt, and my inner flirty-girl had just gone into hiding for a while. Tony brought her back out into the sunlight. I soaked up his attention like a sunflower soaks up UV rays.

We’d flirt, banter, and I’d get all worked up, and then he’d disappear for days at a time--working his magic on some other girl, I later discovered.

Just when I thought it would never happen, it did. I was sitting on the bench of a stone planter in our quad area, reading. Out of nowhere, a voice whispered in my ear, I turned toward it, and there was Tony. He pressed his lips to mine and I was so astonished my jaw sagged open.

My first kiss…and it was in French!

Tony, I must say, was an excellent kisser. He set the bar so high, most of the guys I kissed after him never measured up. When he kissed me (and every other girl he kissed) he gave it 110%. No half-hearted, dry pecks—ever. But I never had to keep a Kleenex handy to wipe up the drool, either. And he left my tonsils intact. He was the Mary Poppins of kissers; Practically Perfect in Every Way.

We never dated, but Tony and I would sneak every possible opportunity to kiss. We’d lock lips in the library, behind the bleachers at Home Plate, in the gloomy hallway in front of my locker. One time, he even caught me unawares coming out of the girl’s bathroom. There we’d be, arms and legs tangled together until I couldn’t stand the tension a moment longer and I’d break away. It never went beyond kissing and some adolescent “feel ups”, but I loved it. I wasn’t allowed to date, so I didn’t have a problem with him not wanting to be my boyfriend. I was content with our secret liaisons.

Then, we were found out. Not by a teacher or some other adult, but by one of Tony’s other girls. She didn’t say a word. But I began finding unsigned notes in my locker warning me to leave Tony alone. Well, how in Hades can you leave someone alone when they won’t leave you alone?

I managed to ferret out that my rival was a girl named Tina. I showed Tony the notes. He just shrugged and said Tina had been smoking too much pot and was paranoid. I told him to leave me alone anyway.

Bless his heart, he did as I asked.

The following year, when I’d experienced being dumped by a boy for the first time, it was Tony who came to the rescue. He picked up the pieces of my broken, teenaged heart and glued them back together with kisses and tender touches.

By my senior year, I’d swirled through the male sex like grasshoppers through a wheat field. I learned a hard lesson; never date guys you go to school with. Living in San Diego, I had my pick of thousands of guys stationed at the Naval Training Center (aka The Zoo) Miramar Naval Air Station and Camp Pendleton. I enjoyed them, each and every one.

Tony had joined the US Army after graduating and I’d all but forgotten him. Then, one day he showed up on my doorstep, all handsome in his dress greens. He was in town visiting family and he thought of me.

We spent an entire afternoon and evening talking, going through my yearbooks and flirting. He met my family for the first time and had dinner with us.

Then he kissed me one last time and was gone from my life forever.

Do you remember your first kiss? Was it a wonderful experience that you cherish? Or do you still cringe at the memory?