My First Kiss 💋

At the tender age of 15, I kissed a girl (and I liked it.) This momentous, yet bloody embarrassing occasion was at fireworks display at a country house in Tring, a town North of London, a place where there are more ducks than people.

Each year, a slightly crabby but sweet old lady, Mary, would invite literally everyone she knew and have a big fireworks bash at her country home. There would be a waft of sparklers, sausages and tomato soup circulating around the grounds. Adults would get drunk on mulled wine whilst struggling to look after their sugar infused children.
We drove up to Tring for more fireworks than I could ever have imagined.

I had been listening to Foo Fighters ‘All My Life’ repeatedly on my Sony CD player on the way there, possibly to drown out the sounds of my parents attempting to make conversation with each other. A bump in the road meant the CD would skip the track.

Emma, a brunette, caught my eye whilst sharing canapés under a canopy. We got chatting. A social interaction with a girl was terrifying. Yet Emma was taking a shine to me, a girl so beautiful with chocolate brown eyes that made my teenage self almost keel over. I repelled girls whilst I was at school. Usually because I was trying to to quote lines from movies or song lyrics, instead of making normal conversation.

We ended up scurrying back to hers, she was only 5 minutes away in a cute little country home that apparently had a swimming pool. I lied to my parents I was going to a boys house. I marvelled at the fact she has a fridge ice machine and a jukebox. She put on American Pie 2.

We laughed how creepy Jim’s Dad looked on the DVD menu for about 10 minutes. I loved how easy it was to talk to her. Maybe girls weren’t scary? Maybe I could try to kiss her? The thought fluttered in my head and then-

Her dad bounced in the room! He introduced himself and shook my hand. ‘Um, hi.’

She wanted to leave his embarrassing presence and I was more than happy to oblige, sadly bad weather began to chase us down the road when we left her house. We ended up cowering under a nearby flyover bridge, hiding from the obnoxious downpour of rain.

We talked. Our eyes met. Our lips connected. I felt all kind of goosebumps and tingles. My endorphins were delivering me 20 shots of euphoria at once. In shock of having the first kiss, I spluttered out the classic line:

“…I can’t believe this is happening to me.”

I don’t know how she didn’t laugh in my face at this confession. We kissed some more, it was addictive. We canoodled against the wall of the bridge. The rain tumbled down, we were covered. I eventually returned to Mary’s. I realised my lie had been caught out as everyone had been sheltering from the rain inside the house. Oops.

I thought this romance could withstand the distance, however – she lived two and a half hours away down the M3. Perhaps next time I could take her somewhere more romantic than a concrete overpass?

We maintained a quasi- relationship over MSN Messenger, I felt overjoyed when she was waiting online for me upon my return home, telling me I was a good kisser! Sadly after a few days of naïve romance, it wasn’t meant to be. I had no idea what to do, I’d only had a relationship with a gerbil at this point and that hadn’t ended well. She got grumpy at me, called me a bad kisser, mocked my words and ended up dating a fellow race track driver. Oops. The End.