As a young man growing up in the free-loving 60s, I certainly was a bit of a dweeb. I really liked girls, all the way back to the 3rd grade when I had my first crush, Joleta Cutler. She doesn’t remember me in the least but I certainly remember her. I was swooning. We never kissed each other back then. Hey, I was in 3rd grade! I liked girls, but was scared to death of them. In some respects, I still am.
My second girlfriend actually knew I liked her. Karen Teichrow. She was my girlfriend in 4th and 5th grade at Kennydale Elementary. Then one day she told me that she didn’t like me anymore. Broke my heart. Worse, I didn’t get a first kiss out of that relationship either.
In sixth grade, I had sworn off girls entirely. I was only friends with them, so no chance of a kiss there.
By the time I turned 13, things were looking pretty bleak for me. I thought I was never going to either find the opportunity or have the gumption to build up enough courage to get my first kiss.
Now, since that time, I have learned a lot about kissing. For example, I have discovered that there are two basic types of kissing: those that are akin to kissing your mother or aunt, and those that curl your toes and you can’t get enough of them.
Back then, I didn’t know the difference. I just wanted to kiss a girl. If they curled my toes, great, but that was secondary at the time.
As with most things, my first kiss was entirely unplanned. My family was having one of its many family parties. I don’t really know why. But it was an evening of firsts, including my first kiss.
My first first of the evening was my first taste of beer. My brother handed me one and said, “Here, you’re now man enough. Have a beer.” I took a swig. It tasted horrible. I couldn’t believe people drank this stuff. But I didn’t want to look like a total dweeb, so I pretended to nurse the drink, regularly dumping splashes of it down the sink in the bathroom.
Properly “high,” I decided it was time to get my first kiss. My sister-in-law’s sister was at the party and I had quite the crush on her. As we have seen throughout my life, I have had a thing – often misguided – for exotic latinas and southerners with accents. Lucy was a latina and very pretty.
My brother Jon decided that I needed some coaching. I was extremely nervous. So my man-about-town brother decided to help me out. “Just go in there, put your arm around her and give her a big kiss. Don’t ask for it, just go in in one motion and get it over with.”
This didn’t sound very romantic. Aren’t you supposed to take them to dinner first? Or at least linger over a soda or two?
But the time had come. It was time to do the deed. I took a last swig of that horrible beer and talked myself up in the mirror. I then went down into the playroom. Lucy was sitting on the couch. I sat down next to her. I made some bad conversation, then I put my arm around her.
The time had come. I moved in, and kissed her. Wow! What a kiss! A real toe curler to be sure. I had imagined what it would be like to kiss a girl, but I never knew there was so much to it. I thought it was all lips. Where did that tongue come from?
Yes, my first kiss was a French kiss. For many, many years later (actually, until seven years ago when I met my ex-whatever in Key West), I had thought this was the way it always was. I didn’t know there was a girl on the planet that didn’t kiss this way. I think this is to be expected. If your first car was a stick shift, why wouldn’t you expect all cars to have a stick?
Now, you’d think I would have stayed around to enjoy a second or perhaps third kiss. I didn’t. I made some lame-ass excuse that I had to go do something. What she may or may not have known was that I was beyond words. I’m really surprised that I could even walk, given that my toes had curled right back to the back of my heel.
Since that time, I have had other kisses… many kisses. But there is something about that first kiss that sticks with you. I even thought I was in love. Puppy love, true. But love just the same.
So if I didn’t kiss her again that night, what was my follow up move?
I did muster up the courage to ask her out on a date. My first real date. Wanting more advice, I asked Jon what movie we should see. “Easy, Robb. Lady and the Tramp. There’s the scene where they share the spaghetti and kiss. She’ll take the cue, and you’re in like Flynn.”
Well, I was no Errol Flynn. I took Lucy to the movies. We did see Lady and the Tramp. She was bored stiff, I think. Looking back it was too juvenile for her. I can see that now. I didn’t get that second kiss that night. We never kissed again.
But I did manage to fall in love that night. This time it wasn’t puppy love. It was real love. Who would have thought I would meet one of my great true loves while I was on a date with someone else at the Roxy Theater in downtown Renton. But there it was, for the taking.
Popcorn with Junior Mints has been with me ever since. While girls have come and gone over the years (often with unexpected frequency), a handful of popcorn with one or two Junior Mints has remained faithful to me. In fact, there’s a box on the counter right within my sight. Damn, where’s the popcorn?
Out on the Treasure Coast, making sure that Mike & Ike keep their hands of my Junior Mints,
– Robb