My first kiss

The Retropolitan has me thinking about kissing. Like that's anything new. But I digress.

My first kiss was in the apartment of the boy I was madly in crush with. I was 13, he was scandalously younger (12). My mother was banging on the front door because, damn it, it was time for me to go. I grabbed him, drug him into the hall, laid one on him, hopped in the car and blushed the entire 45 minute trip home from North Philly to Delaware. It was to be our only kiss for a long, long time.

His name was Jason M. We used to go roller skating and watch Monty Python and listen to The Cure and The Smiths and The Happy Mondays together. Oh, how I still swoon for that boy.

My next kiss came my sophomore year of high school. I was maybe 15? My (dangerously cute) friend Craig with skin like chocolate milk and eyes you could fall into if you weren't careful found out that I had only ever once kissed a boy and that my one kiss, though backed with much gusto, was actually the sort of kiss one gives their grandma at Christmas after she's bought you your 50th sweater vest. He dared me to meet him in the school bus yard during lunch and I, not being one to ever turn down a dare (much to my own detriment), was there at the designated time and spent a dreary, rainy, cold lunch hour in the back of a bus neither dreary, nor rainy, and certainly not cold.

My third kiss was in 1993, putting me at 18, I think. I went back to Philly for a visit and my friend Chris took me to the shore. Wildwood, I think. I brought some friends: my childhood best friend, Nicole, and her devastatingly cute twin brother, Jason M. Yep, that Jason. Nicole and Chris sort of hit it off and they left Jason and I on the beach during the most beautiful sunset in the history of all sunsets while they took a walk. Jason and I laughed and giggled at our secret childhood romance. We went skinny dipping. We caught up on the 5 years we hadn't seen each other. We talked about god and politics and comic books, and it was one of the best nights of my entire childhood. His sister and my friend eventually resurfaced, and we all headed back to the car to head home. Let's just say that we made it all the way to the Jersey turnpike and then Chris and Nicole had to turn the radio up. And the defroster.

I never saw him again. I doubt I ever will.

And now it is your job to click the title of this post and in my inblognito comments section, you are to tell me about your first kiss. Because, honestly, I'm dying to know....