Foxy: More Memories

I was looking back at my old car and was remembering all the good old times and my first kiss stuck out, so here you go, Foxy and I at it again.

What is a first kiss? Hollywood would have us believe that it should be full of fireworks, love songs, and weak knees. But what we don’t see is the team of pyrotechnic specialists, cinematography directors, sound specialist, and costume designers. And just in case you can’t do it just right they can pull in a stunt double to do the deed. After seeing kiss, after kiss on the silver screen that makes all of us lean in a say, “ahhhh”, our perception of what a first kiss should be is shrouded in lights, camera, and action. We live in the real world and these expectations of grandiose gestures and perfect lighting have made a perfect first kiss a thing nigh unto impossible to achieve. Away from the magic of Hollywood, lets face it, first kisses are awkward.

My first kiss consisted of nothing that could have been made into a made for T.V. movie. If anything it was something that could have been a first take of a cheesy teen movie before they sent in the pros. The summer after I graduated high school I dated a boy that I had, in no uncertain terms had been, “crushing on hard” for three years. We had been going out for about a month before the “magical” night came. He invited me over to his friend’s house, which happened to be in a trailer park, to watch movies. An innocent enough beginning to a lazy summer night, one would think. I rolled on over to the house in my leprous red VW Fox. It was leprous because the paint was slowly chipping, exposing the steel underneath, like a leper whose body is slowly decomposing as he still lived. Well, the Fox fit right in as I parked in front of the double wide.

He met me at the door and gave me a hug, and the movie night proceeded.
Sitting on the couch, snuggling it up and holding hands is a bout as far is it ever went, but this night I could tell he had a plan. He would very slowly sneak nearer, and nearer and by the end of the night he had his arm around me and his head leaning on my. But this strategy took to a long time, and by the time he had gotten me right where he wanted me it was 11:45 and I had to scurry off home. I slowly and almost unwillingly untangled my self from his arms. I looked into his face saw the crest fallen look of frustration mixed shame for taking the whole night and still not have had done “it”. He walked me to my car and we hugged and said our good byes. But right when I was about to release form the embrace “it” happened. He closed his eyes took aim and, well, he missed. He did get a piece of it though, the out side 2/3 of my lips.

Before I had realized what had happened, I heard hoots and claps from behind the house. His friends were watching. I don’t know who was more embarrassed him or me. He took off after his friends leaving me to puzzle what had just happened. Did he mean to do that, or was it an accident? I sat in my car trying to figure out if that counted. Did it have to be premeditated to count, or could just be a happy lip bumping accident? My mind was running in circles by the time he got back.

I don’t know what he and friends did, perhaps a contractually high five, or butt slap( he was a football player after all). I don’t know what happened, but when he did show up again he just stood there looking rather pleased with him self. We said good night and I drove home still contemplating. Did have to be the whole lips or is part considered a legitimate kiss? Someone really should have written a handbook on that and passed it when I hit puberty, it would have helped clear up what was going on in my head at that time.
And that was it, my first kiss. No fireworks or “Such Great Heights” from the Postal Service playing in the background. No, they were only awkward teenage boys, a very confused girl, a trailer park and a car that was lucky to make it home. Come to think of it, that could make a great movie.