Have I somehow failed at life because, at least on this particular subject, my mind is a total blank? Am I some kind of a misfit?
There’s no doubt in my mind that I had a first kiss, I had to — because there have been many kisses since that I do remember — so logic dictates there had to be a first. You can’t have more without having a first. Right?
But which one was first, how old I was, who he was, when it happened, why it happened, where it happened, whether or not either one of us (or both of us) enjoyed it, I have no idea. None. Can’t remember if our lips met on the first attempt, like a perfect moon landing, or if it was awkward and took a few tries — sort of like bobbing for apples.
Were we both diaper-wearing toddlers having a playdate, while our mothers drank coffee nearby? Were we curious adolescents? Hormonal teenagers hell bent on sowing some oats? Did we get caught in the act? Was anyone else around? Was it an innocent little peck that scared both of us or was it hot? Was it his first kiss too, or was he a seasoned kisser?
If I’ve forgotten it is it because it was ho-hum? A non-event. You know, like did I block it out of my mind? It couldn’t have been that bad, otherwise my kissing days (and nights) would, most likely, have come to a grinding halt right then and there. I could have been put right off kissing forever. Which clearly I wasn’t.
Oh dear, what if he’s blocked it out of his mind??? I’m beginning to regret that I even brought up this whole kissing thing. Who wants to be a dud at kissing?