My first kiss went something like this...

What is your emotional reaction when you think about your first kiss? I am talking about a real kiss, not about that time you were 4 years old and all the adult females in your family and their friends clapped and took pictures after you were tricked into giving little 5 year old Charlie a peck; also not talking about that time you got to kiss middle school acne Charlie while playing spin-the-bottle. I am talking about the willingly given kiss with that guy that caused some butterfly fluttering sensation in your stomach the moment he told you he liked you. Thought about him now? What is your reaction? My reaction consists of embarrassment and shaking my head.

First kiss: Sam. My age: 15. Location: Bumpy school bus.

I was new in town and new in school. I made my first friends and met Sam on a school bus. Sam wore all black, had chipped black nail-polish on, wore some chains, and listened to the same rock CD on his anti-skip CD player every day. I wore pastels, bras that came in a box that my mom would guess my size for, and Spice Girls worthy platforms. Just earlier that year I saw Backstreet Boys in concert. Sam was everything my family would freak out about if I was friends with.

It did not take too long until Sam and I started sitting together. Weeks later, we wrote letters to each other consisting of drawings, jokes, and making fun of students. A few more days later he asked me to be his girlfriend.  Butterflies… butterflies everywhere. Then terror…. Terror everywhere as I had never had a boy hold my hand and tell me sweet things. Terror… terror all over as I had never kissed a boy. I figured the best thing to do was to put it off until the right moment.

When that moment came, he was polite, despite how his exterior looked and despite he used a permanent marker to draw a tattoo on him every day that his favorite band's lead singer had on his hand. He asked me if he could kiss me as we rode the bumpy school bus back home. Then he went for it. I thought to myself “How hard can it be? I have been practicing by kissing my hand while taking a shower.” But I was not expecting that tongue to try to explore the roof of my mouth on the first kiss. Freaked out, I pulled away, “No! Not one of those [French kisses]!” he just smiled and went for it again, mouth wide open. Bumps later, he stopped. I must let you know, it was my braces that made him stop. You see, braces+sloppy French-kissing+bumpy roads don’t go well together. I looked out of the window for the rest of the ride home as I sneakily wiped all that saliva off the bottom half of my face. It took days for us to try it again.

Sam was the first boy that I called my boyfriend. The first one I kissed and felt butterflies for. The first boy I shared all my secrets with. The guy who eventually gave me a copy of that CD he listened to every day and got me into rock music. He was also the first boy I told I loved in the most random moment that elicited no response but a hug. He was also the first boy that made me cry, after he dumped me by sending his best friend to do it for him. He was also the same boy that unsuccessfully tried to kiss me 5 years later eliciting a sensation of pride in me. I was no longer into sloppy kisses and by that time I bought my own bras and had perfectly straight teeth.