my first:
I was 12, probably 11…but let’s say 12, it’s a slightly more grown-up/appropriate age for kissing boys.
He was tall with big ears, and I am sure he was just as handsome as an 11 year old boy can be.
We were at a friend’s birthday party at the roller skating rink in town. I can’t remember its name, but the rink and adjoining shrine were built to commemorate the spot where a farmer, with his truck stuck in the mud as the creek was rising, had an apparition of the Blessed Mother and was helped to safety. His prayer to Mary was that if she saved him, he would build a…you guessed it…roller skating rink in her honor. How sweet.
So, back to the kiss. We’d been roller skating. I’m sure I fell at least once, given how I have no roller skating experience due to our gravel driveway. It got dark and one by one the little couples left the rink to stroll around outside.
My little heartthrob and I sat outside on the steps of the shrine. The conversation went something like this:
Me: So are we supposed to kiss out here or what?
Him: Yeah but we need to wait a little bit.
Me: Wait? Why? How long?
Him: Um…we need to wait until the moon moves over just a little in the sky
(Yes, he really did bring the moon into this)
Me: Ok now?
Him: Yup, now is good.
…and then we made out. It wasn’t a little kiss. It was all out war. More than once I ended up with his gum in my mouth. He thought it was funny; I was totally grossed out.
But I liked it, and it has been downhill ever since.
