Name: Susie
Kiss and Tell
I was late getting my first kiss, compared to my peers. This was because I lived in the country. I remember going to a party at one of my town friends' homes (the one whose dad was a funeral director, and whose house was attached to the funeral home), and listening to the conversation about who kissed how. I had no idea. But the town kids were together every evening. My more rural peers and I only saw each other outside of school on special pre-arranged occasions, which involved parents driving us to get together. It was simply a matter of opportunity meeting preparation. We were in eighth grade when I realized how far behind I was. I resolved to catch up ASAP.
My boyfriend was Mike. He was a year older, a freshman in high school. He was very much a hippie. Big, curly 'fro (he was white), and he wore wire-rimmed glasses and a red fez. I can't defend the fez; at the time, it seemed jaunty. He lived near town, and the only way he and I saw one another was on the school bus. Until the day his mom agreed to drive us both to the movies. Both his mom and dad came to pick me up
::tangent: I wasn't allowed to "date" at that age; as far as I know, I am still not allowed to date, so I don't know what we were calling that little rendezvous, and in hindsight, I'm amazed I was allowed to go. There may have been lying involved. On someone's part. ::end tangent
and I remember a big, blue car (got me a Chrysler that's as big as a whale and we're about to set sail!) and two big parents. They were really, really fat, and looked very much alike. They were hippies, too, but didn't have the 'fros, they had long, straight hair. They were nice, but not a bit parental, as I recall.
The movie was probably a Billy Jack sequel. The kiss occurred when they took me home. I don't know if Mike had arranged this with his parents or not, but as I recall (gosh, I hope I'm senile or something, because this is too bizarre) he kissed me in the big blue car, in front of my house, with the big hippie parents in the front seat. I don't remember the kiss in detail. I do remember thinking things like, "I think he didn't do that right, because . . . is that it? He must not be a 'good kisser.'" In case you haven't gathered yet, I was not in love with Mike. (I'm not in love, don't make a fuss . . . yea, that crap;) That was it. The first kiss.
That was not the most colorful part of the Mike story. The most colorful part was when I tried to break up with him, not too long after that. I guess he could be called a stalker, although the term had not been coined yet. After too many phone calls that I ended abruptly, he came to see me. Hitch-hiked, some 10 or 15 miles. I saw him across the road from my house. My dad was home. My dad had no clue that I was interested in boys, or they in me. And there, across the road from my rural ranch house, was Mike with his red fez. He stood there staring at the house for a long time. I was getting tummy trouble from the anxiety, and prayed he would get tired and leave before my dad noticed him. He got tired, but he didn't leave. He just lay down. In the ditch. With his red-fezzed head sticking up above the ditch-line, staring across the road at my house. Son of a mother...
OK, insert Dad's southern accent here. "Susie, there's some ol' boy a-layin' in the ditch. Do you know that boy?"
Boy? Ditch? I looked out the living room picture window. "Um, I don't think so..."
"I'll go see what he wants."
"NO! I think I know who that is. He rides my bus. I'll go see what he wants!" And out the door I go. He would not leave. I begged. I went back in the house and told my father, "He wants to talk to me, but I don't want to talk to him. I just want him to leave." Then a strange thing happened. My father, who had no respect for hippies, and I would have thought, even less respect for red-fez-wearing, ditch-lying hippies, said to invite him in. I can only imagine that my father remembered what it was like to be a teen-age boy, "sweet on" a girl.
Mike came in and was very polite to my father. We talked on the back porch, and he finally called his parents to bring the blue whale and pick him up.
The next boyfriend was Ricky. I liked him much better. He could have lain in my ditch any day.
::tangent: That reminds me; Mike wasn't truly my first kiss. My VERY first kiss was from an earlier Ricky, Ricky Canterbury. He was from West Virginia and looked just like Howdy Doody. We played baseball. I did love him. We were in third grade. end tangent ::
This is a motif Monday post, brought to you by mrtl. mrtl is also responsible for the tangents in this post. She is the tangent master. Wax on, wax off.
If you didn't do motif Monday, tell us here about your first kiss!
posted by Susie | 7:33 AM
33 heads are better than one . . .
I kissed in first grade and got in a lot of trouble. He was older, but in my class because he had been kept back. My mother put the fear of God into me which carries on to this day. I didn't kiss next until I was in collge.
A Billy Jack sequel. That is too funny.
I love that story. I'm not so sure my dad would've been as cool about that situation. I take it you didn't expect yours to be either. :-)
I wasn't supposed to date until I was 16. But I was a city girl and kids could easily get together and hang out.
You know, I have some nice pictures to post but I felt I should be doing a story for a change. Maybe I'll do the mrtl motif today. When I find time, that is.
When I was in grade 3, Matthew Birch kissed me on the cheek when we were in the cloak room at school. I thought he was wonderful. He still sent me notes on and off up to grade 6.
My next kiss was when I was in highschool--still to young to have a boyfriend according to my Dad ("No daughter of mine will have a boyfriend until she is 16") I was 14 and I was at one of my girlfriend's sleepover parties and Kevin Spicer crashed the party. He sat next to me when we watched "Highlander" all 3 movies right in a row, and then, in front of all my other friends, he french kissed me--I didn't know what I was doing and couldn't breath. We "went out" for a couple of months, Mom and Dad eventually found out, and to my surprise I didn't get in trouble for going out with the boy, just for keeping the info from my parents.
I broke up with him because he wanted too much--don't know if I loved him...when I told him I was breaking up with him, he punched the wall and the garbage can and it scared me. I was glad to be rid of him, but then he spread nasty rumours around the school....
Some boys are too much hassle!
sub, you don't have to be scared any more. By about age 50, the whole "left back" thing isn't all that big a deal ;)
william, now you did it:
GO AHEAD AND HATE YOUR NEIGHBOR
GO AHEAD AND CHEAT A FRIEND!
DO IT IN THE NAME OF HEAVEN
YOU CAN JUSTIFY IT IN THE END...
See? See what you've started?
squirl, OMGosh, I was terrified that my father would kill me, or worse, embarrass me. Sometimes he surprised me. Yes, DO TELL about your first kiss. What do you mean, "when I find time"? Priorities, girl, priorities!!!!
effie, aw, Matthew sounds sweet, like my first Ricky Doody. Kevin Spicer -- good riddance -- anger management issues, there. He was definitely not worth the trouble.
Stalker in the ditch, huh? Is that kind of like a catcher in the rye?
Still laughing at that otter in the fez picture. Ooh, baby. Come hither.
crayoneater, you crack me up. I think it's more like The Farmer in the Dell...
The Stalker in the Ditch
That crazy sonofabitch!
hi ho, the dairy-o, the Stalker in the Ditch!
Red...fez...
I just don't know if I can get past that to talk about anything else in the story.
White boy fro...with red fez perched jauntily on top...BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
Is it sad that I can't really remember my first kiss? I will have to give it some thought and come back...
Oh, wait. If we're talkin' tongue kiss, I think it was probably this dude named Dave Medendorp (!) in junior high. Can you see why I tried to block it out?
And now the Steely Dan song "The Fez" is stuck in my head:
No, I'm never gonna do it without the fez on...
I really can't remember my first kiss, I guess it wasn't memorable, or I am just getting old.
I did start dating when I was 14 and that is the very reason my daughter didn't.
I loved reading your story, and I am glad that someone my age can remember.
:)
Oh and navsaz, nothing else and nothing more . . . now if I can type it in without screwing it up.
What? The red fez wasn't a clear sign from the universe to NEVER, EVER kiss him?? Gaaaah! Especially in a big blue whale with the Whales Watching! Susie, it's a miracle you weren't scarred for life...!
Great story, though!!!! *tee hee*
My first kiss, hmmm. Musta been the one with a boy name of John who lived across the alley from us. We were in the same First Grade classroom, and both left-handed.
The first time I came home from school with a mark on my left hand where the teacher had smacked me for using it to write, my mother marched down to the school and told the principal that this had better never happen again. That was probably the first time I can remember my mother being Mad on my behalf rather than At me.
Anyway, the teacher couldn't very well punish the three other kids for being left-handed, so she just put us in the back row and more-or-less left us to fend for ourselves.
Which is how I came to be engaged to John. The town dentist always gave out these cute little rings with every visit. John asked to see the Girl's Box of rings, and chose one for me. He even got out of school for going to the dentist.
He returned to school just in time for recess. He pulled me over to the corner by the wall next to the Kindergarten and asked me to marry him and gave me the ring and kissed me on the left cheek.
A left-handed girl name Jackie was quite jealous. I wore the ring at school, and Jonn and me would be friends and hold hands on the playground.
When our mothers, who lived across the alley from each other, decided that we needed to be friends with other people, I had to put the ring away in my treasure box. It got lost one time when we were painting the bedroom. That was the hardest time, breaking that engagement.
John moved out of town our sophomore year of high school, the year his mother died, and he went to lived with an older married sister.
I went on to marry a guy I met in the college cafeteria. Maybe our age and timing was better.
I don't even remember her name... we'll call her Crystal because I think it's close. Crystal and I were in first grade, and Crystal's sister was in fifth grade. I was running around during lunch time, 'cause that's what normal first graders do, and all of a sudden I'm being pinned up against the chain link fence by the sister and two of her fifth grade friends. Though I struggled valiantly I was unable to overcome the overwhelming opposition... probably because I only weighed about 50 pounds. I remember glaring at the sister, and then Crystal darted in and tried to plant an open-mouth kiss on me. I say "tried" because she basically ended up slobbering on me, and I definitely wasn't participating. As soon as she had finished, the older girls let me go and they all ran away laughing. I was horrified and didn't even think to tell the teacher that I had totally been taken advantage of on the playground. I spent a couple months looking over my shoulder at lunch, and then I moved to another city and I never saw her again.
I can't remember the last time I thought about that incident (25 years ago now, lol)... thanks for the fresh trauma, Susie.
P.S. Red fez! And "there's some ol' boy a-layin' in the ditch"... LMAO.
At least I’m not too old to remember my first kiss! I think that it was about 47 years ago. It took place in the family room while I was trying to practice guitar. The object of the kiss was one of my younger sister’s girlfriends, who, with my sister, where bugging me unmercifully. Finally, I put down the guitar, put my arms around my sister’s friend, and kissed her. My sister and her friend starting giggling and ran out of the room.
Ooh, this is like a slumber party with everyone sitting around and whispering first kiss stories. Fun!
I'll blog mine later on this evening.
Kyle was my neighbor when I was five. He moved away when he was six and I didn't see him again for 13 years, when he reintroduced himself to me at the state fair, where we both happened to be working.
He claims my first kiss was to him on the playground. I don't think it's true, but if it is, that's kind of neat because Kyle was a native Alaskan, so I guess that would make my first kiss an "eskimo kiss"
I love it, Chrystlers, whales ready to sail. I am so going to use that as I also drive a big blue chrystler. You are such a good story teller.
bucky, I've never heard that fez song. An audio post may be in order ;) It is terribly sad that you don't remember your first kiss, so write about your last kiss, i.e., most recent ;) which, of course, we hope won't be your last.
nina, you are MOST CERTAINLY NOT getting old! I don't know much, but I know this much is true. 45=PRIMETIME, baby.
eclectic, ha! Your synopsis is better than my story! I love it.
mrsDoF, what a sweet story. If you haven't yet, I'll bet you run into him some day. Nice memories. (Except for the crazy teacher.)
eud, that's HORRIBLE! I hope your subsequent forays into the world of kissing helped you heal from that assault!
ssnick, that sounds like a nice memory. There was too much of an age difference between my brothers and me, so we never had any of that sort of thing.
kalki, yea, it's kinda like that. Get your kissy story up, girl!
hanni, that's very sweet, I like that one :)
august, now I shall picture you sailing around in your whale :) Thank you for being so kind; I love to hear stories and to tell them. There are some really talented storytellers in our little blog circle; I don't count myself in their league, but I am happy they (you all) let me play :)
SSNick--I wish I'd had an older brother who played the guitar and who would give my best friend her first kiss. That was so nice of you.
It reminds me of George in It's a Wonderful Life and how he was at the dance and was remembering his friend's little sister and then she growed up and turned out to be the beautiful Donna Reed.
And Susie, the teacher was really, really old. Over the whole school district, for children being left-handed was never encouraged. However, I was in the last class to have to go through such prejudice.
I do wish I could see John again. Last report I heard was at our 20th school reunion.
Susie,
I'm happy to report that at some point during the last 25 years I decided that girls weren't really yucky after all, and that kissing wasn't so bad either.
Of course, I'm not telling my little girls that until they're 20. Or 30. I haven't totally decided on that one yet. Until then, the official line from me is that kissing leads to cooties, and the best way to make friends with a boy is by throwing rocks at him. :)
That post was great!
My first kiss was in kindergarten. I went to Catholic school, and back then, the nuns were very big on having all the children stand in lines before dismissal, with boys on the left and girls on the right. For all I know, they still might be big on that.
Anyway, Andrew Bascilli (spelling?) was my line partner. I don't know what possessed me, but as we were waiting to be dismissed, I just leaned over and planted a big smacker on his lips. I'm not sure who was more surprised...him or me.
My first "real" kiss (with tongue) was during an eighth-grade school dance with Chris Johanneson from another parish. We were slow-dancing to "Stairway to Heaven" and he looked at me, eyes half-shut, and basically came at me with his lips open. I knew what was happening but, since I totally lacked practical experience, I wound up drooling all over him. I remember opening my eyes and seeing my girlfriends watching from the sidelines, elbowing each other and giggling. We kissed with the passion of two long-lost lovers almost for the entirety of "Stairway to Heaven" -- a darn long song! After the song ended, we stepped away from each other, wiping our mouths, and pretty much said adieu.
Boy, I'm glad I don't have that kind of stress anymore!
I am now 75 and 45/365ths and you wanna know about something that happened maybe 63 years ago? I would have to make it up....
You had me at "I can't defend the fez."
Great writing.
Oh I love your story.....if you've read my blogs, you know that my first kiss was in the first grade by Jimmy Wheeler.....then in 6th grade I remember going to a party and they decided to play spin the bottle.....i was an only child and very protected by mom and scared to death to be kissed....(first grade didn't count) So I can remember sitting on the back of a stuffed chair way up high, so the bottle wouldn't point at me....but I was caught, kissed and went home and looked in the mirror thinking "Oh god I hope i'm not preg.....nieve....i really was nieve.....mom's didn't really tell you much back then, i just had to go by what the girls said that i hung with......lol they were nieve too........
How about an almost first kiss?
5th grade, birthday party, Spin The Bottle and I got the cootie-boy!
We went to the assigned closet, and agreed to just say we kissed.
Best business deal I ever made.
um, ok 1st kiss was in grade one, playing kissing tag at recess. from what i remember, i think we got in trouble, too :(
mrsDoF, the things schools did, and do, to kids, boggles the mind, sometimes. I bet you cross paths with John again.
eud, glad to hear you made a full recovery. And for your girls, go with 30.
lori, that's a great story, and my goodness, that is a LONG song.
hoss, yes, make it up if you must, but I'm thinking you're holding out on us, that you still remember :)
amy, you are a very generous reviewer :)
mrtl, glad to make you L.
judy, that's a sweet story; I sort of wish kids were still that innocent.
sierrabella, oh no, NOT the cootie-boy! I sometimes think of the cootie boys and girls, and hope they're doing well, the "best revenge" thing, you know?
dawn, you were a FAST girl! ;) (I still don't think I've played kissing tag.)
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Kissing!?! YUCK!!! Blegh! Is that all Girls can talk/think about? Sheesh!
Well, Greenie, I seem to recall you weren't too happy when we started talkin' about the Keeper and the Diva Cup at Dooce.
Wouldn't you rather we talk about kissy kissy instead? ;)
LOL!!! NO, NO! Not the Keeper and the Diva Cup.
Pleeeeaaase!
;-)
My first boyfriend was in pre-school, and I was three. His name was Jeffrey Harger, and the two of us would play with Lincoln Logs and Lite Brite and would occasionally steal kisses behind the big bookcase. I don't know what ever happened to Jeffrey Harger.
I didn't kiss again until I was 16. And that was with this guy named Toby. He had this strange resemblance to Machiavelli. He had these really thin lips that would tremble when I kissed him, and he was sort of sweaty. Needless to say, I think I dated him once.
I totally loved your story. I can't get past the red fez!
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