A First

First impressions are important.  So are first kisses to a romantic seventh grade girl.  And, in seventh grade, I was the epitome of the hopelessly romantic preadolescent.  I had envisioned kissing to be quixotic and tender.  He would be attractive, interesting, and witty, while he laughed at all of my jokes.  He would tell me how beautiful I was as he suavely dipped me after a night filled with profound conversations. And when we kissed, his eyes would echo the sparkling stars above us.

      Unfortunately, reality is different than fantasy.  I remember the scene vividly.  The air held no sweetness and the sky was void of any stars.  The night was overcast as I sat on a stifling bus headed toward Washington D.C. for a political march.  There were forty other loud junior high students; several were playing “Truth or Dare.”

      “C’mon…you know you want to,” a girl with big eyebrows and a bigger mouth whispered with a thick, altoid-scented breath.

      “Oh, no… I’m good,” I timidly responded and quickly tried to act disinterested by staring out the dark window, which only mirrored my skinny, naïve self.  I couldn’t stand my awkward reflection, so I looked away.  Alas, my attempt to appear aloof was futile.  I gave up and turned around to my laughing classmates and wondered who was being humiliated now. 

      Catherine was wiping her mouth and some buck-toothed boy slapped hands with his buddies.  I guessed the kissing game was on.

      “Okay…Brian…you’re next….and I dare you to kiss—Maria!” laughed the buck-toothed boy, skipping the “truth” part of the game.

      Wait, me?  No!  He was kidding! I was Maria! I looked around peevishly.

      “…My dad…” I gulped and gestured to all the parent chaperones, asleep at the front of the bus.

      “…is not going to see you,” said the smooth, self-appointed bellwether of the group.  “Altoid?”

      I automatically took one, as if accepting an inevitable fate.  I braced myself as Brian, a pink-faced boy with dark hair, came forward.  His face came towards mine and all I remember is a minty, slimy sensation on my mouth.  “One…two…” I lost track after that.  He wasn’t letting go.  I began to push myself away from him, but it only made him hold me tighter.  Then, something moist and squishy made its way into my mouth. Ah! It was his tongue.  I didn’t bargain for this.  I felt like I was drowning.  Instinctively, I began to violently cough, gasping for air.  He let go as I flung myself back to my seat and grabbed a water bottle and chugged.

      I took my first breath as a deflowered kisser.  What a disgusting sensation.  I began to think of all the musicians who thought that kissing was fun, deep, and—romantic.  I slunk down in my seat, my face burning with shame.  I was numb to everyone’s laughter.  Who chokes on herfirst kiss?  I began to think that this was an omen foretelling the rest of my love life.  Should I just give up now?

      At that moment, I realized that I had compromised my dignity by giving into my peers.  I had lost something that I could never get back.  I had given my first kiss to a stupid boy on a stupid bus.  I looked at my reflection in the window.  At least I had learned the priceless lesson of the importance of self worth