I was 12 years old when I had my first kiss. It happened the first school year I was allowed to watch my younger sister after school, until my mom got home from work. This of course meant that everyday my middle-school boyfriend would sneak over and hang out.
He had long blonde hair that was vaguely reminiscent of Kurt Cobain's. He smoked cigarettes he stole from his brother and played bass in a band called Dark Illusion. I was pretty much putty in his 12 year old hands. We would sit in my room and listen to Nirvana & Smashing Pumpkins and talk about how depressing life was. Really? What did I have to be depressed about? The WB canceling the best version of Batman animators would ever dream of? - oh yeah, life was really hard.
We would sit and stare at each other for a really, really long time. I think it was a sort of dare to see who would kiss the other first. But it did finally happen. During one of our human magic-eye sessions, sitting cross-legged on my carpet listening to the alt-radio hit "Everything Zen." We didn't know what we were doing so we just sort of opened our mouthes and swirled our tongues around. There was a lot of drooling and sucking noises. We literally sucked face.
Years later and it's still like that - nooo, just kidding. But come to think of it, he was the only person I've ever stared at like that. I mean, how long can you actually stare into someone's eyes (while being 100% serious) before you get uncomfortable and look away? Count it off to yourself next time you find yourself staring down the barrel of another person. 10 seconds? 15?
These virgin smooching testaments will be told Wednesday, May 26th at the 92nd St. Y Tribeca at 7pm. Tickets are $12. Find out more about it here.
So I told you mine: you tell me yours. Tell CAG about your first kiss.
Love you, mean it
Emily
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