Last night, an old college friend called. Over the weekend, she took the time to catch up on my blog – as in, she read ALL MY ENTRIES. Wow! Didn’t know she loved me so! LOL! She said that one of her favorite was the little diddy below, and since it was from 2 years ago, I decided to repost for newer readers and provide a throwback for those already familiar. Enjoy!
Recently, a girlfriend and I were discussing crushes, first loves and first kisses. She laughed so hard about my first kiss, that she made me pinky swear to blog about it. Debt paid KT – I’m blogging about it!
A little background in case you’re unfamiliar with MrsTDJ. I’m the only child born to a set of no nonsense, strict parents. They are old school to the core, so up until 9th grade, things like phone calls from boys, boys walking you home from school or co-ed parties just weren’t happening for your girl. I was pretty much o.k. with it because hell, those were the rules. Period.
In the 7th grade, I had a friend, Carla. Carla was turning 13 at the end of the school year and had been talking about a “pajama party” for weeks. I started laying the foundation with my parents somewhere after Christmas. *lol* “Spring Break? Sure, I’d love to clean the attic. Can I bring down my suitcase for Carla’s sleepover in June?” and many more ridiculous hints like that. Not that I wasn’t allowed to do things, but my parents were selective. And I had it on good information that Carla’s party was.not.to.be.missed!!!
My mother finally took the bait in May and arranged a visit to Carla’s house. Again – old school. My mother had met Carla and her mother when I was in 6th grade, but she’d never “laid eyes on how they live or had a proper cup of coffee with that girl’s mother”. Until that little sit down happened? There wasn’t a chance in hell that I’d be spending the night over her house.
The meeting happened about 3 weeks before the party. Carla and I went to her family room to watch Video Music Box (New Yorker’s – do ya’ll remember that???) while our moms chatted. An hour later? All smiles – MamaTDJ had ruled in favor of me attending the sleepover! YES! YES! YES!
The night of the party finally came! My mom and dad walked me the four blocks to Carla’s house and I was so giddy, I didn’t even object when they each kissed me on the cheek in front of my friends. I just knew that this was going to be the best time ever with my friends. I had watched enough ABC Afterschool Specials and read enough Judy Blume and Sweet Valley High books, to know JUST how the night was going to go:
- Carla’s mom would make rice krispie treats and s’mores, while her dad went to the pizza parlor for a couple of pies
- We would be playing in each other’s hair, polishing each other’s fingernails and toenails, and experimenting with makeup
- While doing all those girlie activities, we would start discussing the topic on everyone’s mind – BOYS!!
- We would squeal and laugh the night away, until passing out in uncomfortable positions on the basement floor
Well, I should have sensed that little, ole innocent, sheltered me was in for a shock. Oh the 5 of us ate pizza and rice krispie treats, followed by a primping session of hair, nail polish and makeup. But, just after Carla’s parents said “goodnight” and shut the door to the basement, while on the way up to their room, my ABC afterschool special turned into an episode of MTVs, True Life. There was rhythmic knock on the side door and a smattering of giggles, as Carla raced to open it. There stood 3 boys from our private school and 2 neighborhood boys. Ya’ll, I was shocked! It had never, ever occurred to me that boys would be sneaking into the party.
I rolled with the punches, so as not to teased or ostracized, but in the back of my mind, I was thinking, “If my mama and daddy find out, I’m soooooooo dead!” As a group, we debated between Twister, Truth or Dare, or 7 Minutes in Heaven. Of course, 7 Minutes in Heaven won. Do ya’ll know about 7 Minutes in Heaven or was it a regional thing? Anyways, the game is like spin the bottle on steroids. When it’s your turn, you spin the bottle and when you land on a member of the opposite sex, ya’ll have to go into the closet/bathroom/laundry room/wherever for 7 minutes and do whatever. I’d heard of folks really getting a little too familiar, but I had no plans for any of that.
I was “lucky” enough to get “spun” by the second spinner, Herman. He was an alright guy who lived 2 streets from me. We’d gone through elementary school together, but I changed to a Lutheran school for middle school and he stayed in public school. We weren’t the best of friends, but given the five choices in that basement, he seemed like one of the two decent selections. Kinda cute, kinda nice, kinda funny, kinda cool. He’d smiled when the bottle landed on me, so I guess he was ok with the selection. Regardless of what he had planned, my plan was to just talk to him for the duration and maybe give him a quick peck when someone knocked for our “30 second warning”.
As soon as he closed the closet door behind us, I knew that I was indeed very un-lucky and I needed to reevaluate my plan. We sat opposite each other and he started asking me questions about school, my parents and rap videos. I’ve always been a chatty girl, but that night? I wouldn’t shut up! I was trying to take the record for words uttered without letting your partner get a word in. Why? Because Herman’s breath smelled like hot, stanky, week old, sour, curdled milk. The hotter and darker it got in that closet, the more his breath surrounded me like a blanket of velvet funk. At that moment, I understand why the gas chamber was cruel and unusual punishment.
After what felt like an hour, I finally just said, “Shut up and let’s kiss!” He seemed stunned, but quickly recovered with, “Um, yeah, bet!” I pursed my lips together, then leaned into him and mashed my lips to his. Every few seconds, he would attempt to move his lips in an attempt to separate them for tongue action, but I was determined to not lose. I wrapped my arms around him, pressed even harder and worked on breathing through my nose.
When we finally were released from the closet, we each bore different expressions. Him? Shell-shocked and unsure of what had just happened. Me? Nauseous and desperate for some toothpaste. I hit the steps running in search of my overnight bag, while hearing Herman tell one of the other boys, “Yo, she’s the best. I’m gonna make her my girl!” Whatever, stinky!! Thanks but no thanks for that compliment!
Do you remember your first kiss – sweet, funny, memorable?