It’s Like Kissing A Fish0

IT’S LIKE KISSING A FISH!

Act like you’ve never had a first kiss before. Go on, I dare you! I’m not talking about some silly peck on the lips, either. I’m talking about the Full Monty of Tonsil Hockey here. If you’ve actually never had a first kiss before, 2 things:

1. This story isn’t for you. You just plain won’t understand it nor care, unless you’re some perv who gets his boat floating by vicariously living through others when their sexual exploits come about in written form. Gross. You really shouldn’t have checked out this blog because it’s making me feel dirty, and – news flash – there simply won’t be a lot of sex. (Note, by the way, that I said “his boat…” If you’re a chick, you’re still a perv, but this blog can be for you anytime you want! Hell, I’ll read it to you, just ask).

2. You’re a loser, Loser!

That being said, first-ever kisses, in my estimation, are incredibly awkward. I know this because out of all the first-ever kisses I ever had, 100% of them were incredibly awkward. It’s like kissing a fish. Don’t believe me? Okay, let’s go on a Memoir Safari then. If your name is “Loser” (see number 2 above), then skip past all this please. Now.

I’ve spent most of my seventh and eighth grade going to school dances as if they’re the only party in town. Much of that is because they really are the only party in town. By the way, I use the term “town” incredibly loosely – where I live is smaller than the word “town”. Our school isn’t even in a town – it’s between two of them, made up of kids from about three of them and is still one of the smallest schools in the county. I can count just about all the students on my two hands. Trevor can use his feet.

And these dances aren’t semi-formals or anything like that either – these are the high school equivalent of raves, where a DJ comes in and plays, you wear whatever you wear, and just have a grand ol’ time.

And I do. I have so much fun at these dances that I often-times feel like I’m the only one dancing. In some cases, no one dances until I do… either because they think I’m cool or because I’m the guy that makes the obligatory fool of himself – something the “popular kids” require before they’re willing to shake their own awkward booties.

Okay, it’s not really a question – it’s the former, obviously.

In fact, what’s not cool about these dances? The music is fantastic (The Real McCoy, Ace of Base, Haddaway, La Bouche etc), the drama is exciting, and at my age, it’s the closest thing I’m going to get to hitting up a nightclub. My dream!

The funny thing is that as much as I go to these dances, and as many girlfriends as I tend to have – not all at once, mind you – these two things have never crossed paths. Tonight, for what I believe is the first time ever, I’ve got a girlfriend at the dance!

Spoiler Alert: I’ll still have a girlfriend by the end of the dance, but it won’t be this one.

My girlfriend is rather shy, but sweet, awkward and not very popular (but then again who am I kidding, neither am I at this point), and she’s been raised to be a stand-up individual. Translation – not really the drama type. Have you ever seen “Freak and Geeks”? You know the main girl played by Linda Cardellini? I’m talking about her geek friend, Millie. That’s who I’m dating.

I also apparently have the uncanny ability to describe my girlfriends in detail by comparing them to television shows that won’t exist for another seven years. Stick around, a lot of that’s going to happen.

That being said, she’s a sweet girl. But something tells me I’m not interested in a plain old sweet girl. Something’s missing.

Regardless, we seem to be having a good time. She’s obviously ecstatic that I’m here with her. We’ve slow danced a bit but she’s not incredibly interested in dancing otherwise. She’s willing to hold my hand at least but then again, judging by the looks I’m getting from others, I’m not sure if I want to hold hers. I’m not really sure I want to be dating her at all really. Sometimes I think I’m just dating girls to date them. I’m not really sure what it is I’m expecting from them. I’m 14, after all – what could I really be expecting?

About halfway through the dance, my girlfriend decides to take a walk to the bathroom with some of her other bandgeek friends. Okay fine, I’ll just hang around and do nothing for a while.

Not like I was doing anything anyway, thanks.

I decide to get some fresh air over by the doors. The dances here take place in the school cafeteria, which resides at the front of the building and, for some idiot-design reason, has full-height glass windows and doors along the entire wall facing the street. So I head over to one of those doors in a corner where no one seems to be hanging out, and open it a crack, letting in some much-needed cool, spring oxygen.

“Hey.”

Okay, so I’m not alone. I turn to see who’s interrupting my timeout with nature.

Ah, one of my classmates. In order to protect the guilty I’ll just call her “Celest… ial… Celestial”, specifically with the quotes around her name. No one’s going to figure that one out.

I’m not sure what “Celestial” is doing here – I didn’t even know she was at the dance. But she seems to be walking toward me with a smirk on her face, the kind where you can tell something devious is running through her head.

Now, I’m not really all that attracted to “Celestial”. She’s got really big glasses straight out of 1987 and, well… kind of looks like someone stuck Doris Roberts’ face on her, (another out-of-sync reference). Nonetheless, that whole devious vibe I’m feeling has my drama blood pumping. I hop up on the radiator that stretches like a bench in front of one of the windows and pat the open space next to me.

“Hey ‘Celestial’, what’s up?” I say.

She keeps her winning, old lady smile and jumps up on the radiator next to me. She leans close and whispers in my ear, “Do you wanna make out?”

Ah! That’s what’s been missing! I’m 14, after all – I should expect some making out! But there’s a problem… a tiny little fact that could get someone seriously hurt…

“I’ve never kissed like that before,” I say.

She smiles again, “That’s okay – I can teach you.”

I’m enticed. But my conscience – the jerk – kicks in. With me, it’s like adrenaline. But instead of “fight or flight”, it’s more like “fight or be a complete pussy.” I’ll be honest with you – “complete pussy” wins most of the time.

“I won’t say I’m not interested, ‘Celestial’, but I have a girlfriend,” I say. There – no way around that!

She doesn’t miss a beat – “Break up with her.”

I’m stunned. Talk about a hole in what was – up until 5 seconds ago – a fool proof strategy! And a mighty big one, too! I mean, not only is the suggestion rather clever, but it would also allow me the chance to make out for the first time in my life, as well as add a little drama into the mix!

On the other hand, I’d be hurting a sweet, unpopular, awkward, geeky girl who actually likes me.

Weighing such a moral and ethical dilemma is not something to be taken lightly. That’s why it takes me all of 10 seconds to call one of my girlfriend’s bandgeek pals over to my radiator and dispense with the news. My girlfriend and I are no longer. Shocked, and wearing a frown of disappointment, bandgeek pal takes off.

I’d like to say I spend the next few minutes contemplating how my poor ex-girlfriend must feel, having entered the bathroom a dancing queen, only to exit with a broken heart and her royalty stripped from her, but when faced with the choice of whether to feel remorse for my ex’s pain or make out with Big Glasses DeYoung Granny next to me, I choose the latter.

“Celestial” and I lean into each other. I’m not sure whether to open my mouth a little or at all. Do I peck first and then open my mouth? Do I stick my tongue out like Alien and snap at her mouth with it? Do I just open my mouth like a Sarlacc and hope for her to fall in? What if I just keep my mouth closed and – ?

Oh! Her tongue’s already in my mouth! This is incredibly awkward! And… it’s like kissing a fish! (See? I told you). I’ve never kissed a fish before, and I don’t know why it is I can compare this to kissing a fish but I’m doing it all the same! And I can’t tell if I would enjoy kissing a fish or not. I’m not sure yet if I enjoy this!

Wait. Yes… yes I do enjoy this! It’s my first real kiss, after all! So I’d better like it! Even the face of an annoying old woman from a fairly popular television sitcom can’t stop me from enjoying it! Are those dentures? I’m enjoying it so much that I’m even debating grabbing at something of “Celestial”’s but, as it is, I can barely move. I’m numbed by the sensation!

And then she stops and pulls away after what seems like an eternity!

“Was that… okay…?” I ask.

She nods, wiping the drool from her chin and, I think, fixing her dentures. Her glasses are completely uneven now but she doesn’t seem to mind – even though she’s likely far off-balance and could fall any second. She smiles and stands up from the radiator.

“Thanks,” she says.

She looks like she’s about to leave my little corner of the cafeteria, but I grab her by the arm before she can disappear. “So… are we together?”

“Celestial” looks at me and smiles in a way only her grandmother can love, “Sure!” And she takes off to be with her other group of friends.

I debate chasing after her but decide I need to get back out on the dance floor. I just made out for the first time in my life! That’s worth dancing about, right?

But as I hit the dance floor, a certain ex-girlfriend is already there waiting for me. Her bandgeek friends are standing behind her, and she has obviously been crying for the last fifty years. So? I haven’t – I just made out with Raymond’s Mother back there and I’m as high as a kite!

Actually, given the look on her face it’s more like I’m a frozen deer in a pair of headlights.

I feel like the whole world has stopped, like the dancers are no longer dancing and the music is no longer musicing. I have this sudden panic gripping me because I’m not sure what’s about to happen next, particularly now that my ex girlfriend is starting to resemble a dilophosaurus as it prepares to spit venom all over Denis Nedry.

And here it comes…

“You’re a bitch, and you’re breaking up with the best!” she screams.

Then she runs away. Like a deer that didn’t get hit by a car.

Well… I suppose she wouldn’t want to make out with me now…