Awkward Truths: Anecdote Edition [my first kiss]

Here at Conversations, management [bRob] has decided to expand the scope of Awkward Truths to include some of bRob's awkward reel from the past. Enjoy.

My First Kiss 

The summer I turned fifteen, a mere fresh-faced [read: pimply and brace-y] child, my family boarded a cruise to Alaska. That boat would forever change my life. Mostly because Alaska is gorgeous, but also because I got my first kiss.

I spent ninety percent of my time on that cruise with the super-cool teen group [the other ten percent was spent eating. maybe 70-30 would be a more accurate distribution...]. We did everything together. We went to shows, played games, watched movies, flirted in a way that would make my twenty-something-year-old-self cringe. Also, we fell in love. And by we, I mean bRob. Juuuuust bRob.

His name was Matt. His little sister, Maria, and I became fast friends, which meant I should obviously be his first pick for cruise-girlfriend. He had beautifully tanned skin, dark black curls, and a huge calculus book. So mature for his age - studying calculus on a cruise. Enigma, in a word. My fifteen-year-old sophomore self boggled.

Also there was this kid named Chris who flirted a lot. He wore Rainbows before Rainbows were cool. He wrote poetry [read: "poetry"] with questionable grammar. Being from California, he was just so much older [Three. whole. years. Or maybe two? Who knows] and wiser in the ways of the world. Oh, and exotic. Being from CA definitely made him exotic.

My little teenage heart could barely handle all the emotional turmoil. I loved them, to be sure. But whom did I love more? Fate dealt a cruel hand, that week - sending two great loves my way [it should be noted that I have not since encountered this problem nor will I ever probably again]. 

On the last night of the cruise, the entire super-cool teen group celebrated by going to a final dinner together. Then Matt and Maria's parents made them leave early so they could get a good night's rest before debarkation [...seriously. They might've been home-schooled too, now that I think about it.]. Well that was that. No lingering glances, no trembling goodbyes, no meaningful hugs. Matt just left. Also Chris was being loud and obnoxious and disgustingly flirty. Obviously fate made my mind for me. Chris, then, would be the love of my life [read: week]. 

As all the other kids finally wandered off to go to bed or sneak alcohol from the bar or snag one last dessert, Chris and I wandered aimlessly, like creeps, through the halls of the boat, enjoying what was probably deep and marginally insightful conversation. I was looking absolutely gorgeous, my friends. I wore my cutest red tank-top under a cool, see-through white shirt. Remember when layering was the hottest thing? yeah. sure was. My stellar top combo was combined with light khaki capris that were about the same color as my legs. My hair was tied in two pigtails -two lopsided, mouse-brown pigtails. I even had minty gum in my mouth to hide the post-dinner halitosis. 

Hold onto your laptops, readers, because stuff's aboutta get real.

 As we slowed our walk, Chris flat-out told me he would kiss me.

In what I'm sure I thought was a slightly alluring and teasing voice I replied, "But I'm chewing gum." [This remains a problem even to this day. I am never  not chewing gum.]

He assured me it didn't matter. So manly. So wise.

A million thoughts ran through my brain. Most of them had to do with my gum. Did I swallow it? Side-pocket it? Give it to him? Is gum-sharing a thing?

In hindsight...I don't remember what I did. [which is probably why it's still a problem]. I finally said something super sweet like, "O.K."

And he did it. He leaned in...and stuck his tongue straight in my mouth. I don't even remember our lips touching. He had some kind of aim to get his tongue in without even making lip contact. Call me hard-hearted, but I almost gagged - it felt like I had a dead fish in my mouth. Years of romantic comedies had done me wrong, because this, my friends, was neither fun nor romantic.

I waited for as long as my nausea would hold off [three seconds], and then said, "Alright. That's enough of that."

No. Joke.

Then we awkwardly hug/cuddled [apparently Chris was not put off by the fact I found his kissing disgusting], said a nearly teary-eyed good-bye, and went our separate ways. 

how much puberty can you fit into one awkward photograph?
Both Chris and I are in this picture. I'm not going to tell you which one is Chris - it's more fun if you try and guess. Matt's not pictured. Trust me, though, he was a cutie.

-bRob

Epilogue: Chris and I kept in touch for about a month via email. His email signature was some short poem about blue eyes with terrible rhyme scheme and an incorrect "you're."

I can never change the fact that I shared my first kiss with someone who had bleached hair tips and can't distinguish between "your" and "you're."