Wednesday, April 23, 2008

How 'bout another first kiss?

I am a hopeless romantic. Nothing turns me into a pile of mush quicker than stories or movie scenes with that "first kiss."

Most of my tween and early teens were dreaming about that first kiss. I would be lost in my own little world, thinking about how the object of my affection would suddenly pull me to him and give me the sweetest, softest kiss.

The drawback to fantasy worlds is that the real world often doesn't match up. However, I was bound and determined to make that first kiss count. That's why my first boyfriend in seventh grade never got to kiss me.

Oh, he tried. Poor Luis. The first time he tried was as we were about to get off the bus after a ski club trip. I could see my dad standing outside the bus, and as I sensed Luis leaning toward me I quickly said, "My dad is waiting for me" and bolted down the aisle. In school, a few days later Luis tried again as we stood by our lockers and this time I backed away, citing a school handbook rule, "We can't do that here! Principal Springpeace is right there!" I simply didn't want an audience of my peers to this momentous occasion. Luis left a break-up note in my locker some days later after he got wind of the fact that I was thinking of breaking up with him. Years later, when we were both in college and out of the early, dorky teen years, we had an opportunity to hook-up while hanging out at a mutual friend's house. Luis was drunkenly swinging me around the bedroom of our friend in an odd dance while we watched "Clockwork Orange." I was casually dating someone for the summer, which is the only explanation I have for not taking advantage of a situation where I was being wooed by a super-hot, well-toned Dutch-Hispanic man-boy. A friend watching the movie with us later told me that Luis had, in a drunken slobbering way, tried to kiss me again. I guess it was the kiss that was never meant to be.

The next guy I dated, Don, lived in Buffalo and was at too safe a distance to even consider kissing. The only collision we ever had was when I managed to fall and crash into him as he waited at the bottom of a hill for me when we went skiing together once. I didn't see him again after that.

Dave and I were two friends that could have lettered in flirting with each other, but when we dated things went south and we never did anything beyond holding hands during passing time at school.

And then there was Vince. Vince was that older guy. I met him just before my sophomore year in high school at a high school graduation party. We hit it off right away because I didn't mind listening to him talk and tell me all about his knee injury, the people we knew in common, and other random details. We started talking on the phone at first, but then he took me out for lunch, and then again a week later to see Faith No More, Metallica, and Guns'N Roses at Rich Stadium with a couple of his friends. I went away to a string camp at SUNY Fredonia for a week, but when I got back Vince took me to the State Fair with some co-workers. We got back home late. The sun had gone down and the neighborhood was quiet as he walked me to the door. I turned to give him a hug when, instead, he leaned in kissed me. I kissed him back, hugged him and said goodnight. Maybe not quite storybook ending, but good enough. Good enough to remember the date: August 3, 1992.

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By turns serious and playful, Sexography maps the coming of age, tragedy and rebirth of one woman's sexual self. From "making out" with imaginary Hollywood stars in her closet (and getting busted) to coming to terms with abuse, assault and rape, from embracing her curiosity enough to become a sex toy tester to accepting and dealing with her tumultuous past, Carly Milne paints a brutally honest - and, at times, amusing - picture of what it's like to learn about and experience sex in every sense of the word. From the earliest experiences in her childhood homes in Edmonton and Calgary, Alberta to present day Los Angeles, Milne guides readers through the sometimes troubled waters of female sexuality with a mixture of candidness and humor. Whether you've been through similar experiences or just know someone who has, Sexography will change your mind about why and how survivors survive.


battlemaiden said...


I love these stories.

Twilight said...

I too was a sophomore in high school. I don't remember the date, but I do have it written down in a diary. How much older was Vince? :)

Twilight said...

(posting this so i can see the replies; forgot to check that box.)

Julia said...

When the first kiss happened, I was 15 and he was 19.

fubaars said...

That is so weird. I was crawling around the web and decided I would check out your blog to see what you were writing about today. I actually started blushing when I read the title of your post...I had the dreaded feeling that the "It's not allowed in school!" story would be coming up.

You actually have Peggy Day to thank for those two attempts to kiss you. I was actually quite fine with how everything was going...until she found out that we were "dating" (if you want to call it that). She kept on hounding me in Home Economics class to kiss you. After the failed attempt on the bus, she was even worse. She said that I needed to kiss you before leaving school that day. The rest, as you say, is history.

I was relieved after it all happened just so that I could get Peggy off my back. =) One thing that I've always felt bad about was that note I left in your locker. What can I say? I was a teen...I was was crude. Sorry about that.

My first kiss? Jamie Jacobs just before the prom on Junior year. I gave her a Mickey Mouse watch she wanted and she kissed me. It tasted funny.

Oh yeah, my wife says she is going to call me "man-boy" from now on. Thanks.

battlemaiden said...

Oh, sooooo cute!

I know I already said this, but he is yet another ex-boyfriend who is now a dad. When will it end?!!??

Julia said...

Luis - I totally forgot about the Peggy Day factor in all of that. I vaguely remember her bugging you back then about the whole thing.

Twilight said...

Thanks, now I've been made to wonder what a "Dutch-Hispanic man-boy" looks like.

Carly said...

I love that you remember dates... that's awesome. And that you and L still communicate to this day!

My first kiss was nothing to write home about. The first one that meant anything to me on a serious emotional level wasn't until I was 14. And he and I still talk to this day, too. :)

Stacey said...

My first kiss was a big disappointment. Fortunately I dated better kissers later.

matthew f. said...

did i ever tell you that peggy day threw (with great accuracy) a big chunk of asphalt at my head when we were in either 2nd or 3rd grade at listwood elementary school?


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