first kiss

Do you remember the name of the first person you ever kissed? 

A friend of mine raised that question with a bunch of co-workers the other day and she was mortified that virtually none of the men remembered the name of the girl who ushered them into manhood, who shared this incredibly romantic, life-changing milestone moment with them. For some it was just a girl with a sports bra on the wrestling mats in the gym. For others, it could have been one of a multitude of girls. All nameless, faceless bodies with boobs and lips and, did I mention? BOOBS. Or maybe it was just boob potential, or boobs attached to lips that would actually kiss them. At any rate, she was scandalized that these men had diminished these young girls to objects without feelings, faces or even names.

I must have been a teenage boy when I was a teenage girl because I seriously don't remember the name of the boy I first kissed, like really kissed.

I remember a lot about the moment. I was 13, the new girl in school. Frizzy hair, thick glasses, bad skin, off-brand jeans, in the band. We were playing "2 Minutes in the Closet" at a birthday party (thanks Judy Blume! I would link you to the "rules" but apparently this game is now called 7 Minutes in Heaven or 10 Minutes of Paradise and a few other things that have tarnished my memory of this oh-so innocent, toe-dip into tween romance and sex moment so I'll just let you Google those on your own. In short, it's a game where a boy and a girl are pushed into a closet or otherwise small and dark room at a party and you are expected to do "whatever" for two minutes, while everyone outside the door giggles and speculates.

My memory...The closet was crowded with junk. There was a mobile with lots of little silver birds that kept getting tangled in my unruly hair. I think his name was Eric. Maybe. He was a little taller than me with brownish curly-ish hair, pretty cute, considering it was the early 80s and we were 13 years old. He might have had braces. You'd think that's something I'd remember, right? I was nervous. I had no idea what to expect. Anyway, he kissed me. With tongue. Yep, my first kiss was french. Hey, go big or go home. I remember liking it well enough, but also being a little bewildered that this swapping of spit and groping of tongues was such a big deal.

I am kind of sad that I don't remember his name. Or have a better memory of that moment. I wish I'd kept a journal back then so that all these years later, I could remember all the details and the roller-coaster of emotions that I'm sure came along with my "first kiss." But I'm glad I got to revisit it. Maybe I'll dig up an old yearbook and see if that jogs any memories. Or maybe I don't need to. I'll just keep my romanticized "first kiss" memory as it is.

Question of the Day...Do you remember your first kiss? Name? Face? Details? Do tell!

Update...for the record, the first kiss WAS named Eric. Found my old junior high yearbook (scary). He was blond-ish (black and white photos give you some leeway here); definitely cute given that it was the early 80s and we all had awful hair, clothes, and were in the depths of puberty; and, judging by the closed lip yearbook picture smile, I'm guessing I was also right on the braces. Good memory!