Skip to main content

first kiss

I have been boy-crazy all my life up until recently. When I was a girl my favorite board game was The Bride, where you roll the dice and advance down the aisle collecting a groom, something old, something new, something blue, a bouquet etc.  It's what I aspired to.  And my favorite game shows as a kid where The Dating Game, and The Newlywed Game.  I've been in love with love as long as I can remember.

When I was a pre-teen I read and re-read the OG young adult novelist Judy Blume and dreamed of being able to play the game she described where a boy and girl get shut in a closet together and see what happens.  Of course spin the bottle was another favorite of mine but one that I didn't get to play nearly enough.  Also in my early teens I discovered my aunt's stash of Harlequin Romances and spent an entire weekend surreptitiously devouring one after another.  They were my gateway drug into the full length bodice rippers that I've been addicted to most of my life.  Romance novels were my ultimate in escapism. *

But given all that, these days I find myself romantically challenged.  I just don't have the interest.  Nothing and no one is doing it for me (see post on sex & romance) and I have concluded that what I need to snap me out of my funk is a really good first kiss.  Preferably with someone I don't know all that well.  Because I did have a first kiss of sorts the other evening and it didn't do it for me.  Granted, it was with someone I had dated years ago, someone I had a history with so maybe that was the problem.  I wanted and was expecting the raised heart rate and fluttery stomach but was disappointed when it didn't happen.  Is it just me?  Maybe.  But I'll never get a second chance to find out because after our dinner date he ghosted me.  I guess he wasn't impressed by our kisses either.

My best memories of first kisses are from my junior high school dances.  I guess I would have been 13/14.  Back then a lot of school dances had live bands play - local bands who did cover songs.  In hindsight that seems so cool and probably added to the budding sexual tension in the air.  There was the thrill of waiting to be asked to slow dance, preferably by someone cute or even had a crush on.  The locking of each other in a body-touching-body embrace, and shuffling in a square foot patch of gymnasium floor while being serenaded by songs like Stairway To Heaven, Free Bird, Once, Twice, Three Times A Lady.  Those were some of the best songs because they were nice and long providing plenty of time to make out.  So that's what we did.  Or at least I did.  I never talked about it with any of my girlfriends (secret shame?) so I don't know.  Maybe I was known as "fast" and the boys only kissed with me, because I would kiss as many different boys as there were slow dances.

But those were chaste kisses, only occasionally involving a little tongue, and never ever spoiled by they grabbing of a boob.  Ok, so maybe we did grind a little, I don't really remember,  What I do remember is the longing to be kissed and the magical fulfillment of that longing.  First there was the excitement of being asked to slow dance. Then we'd entwine our bodies and sway a few steps with that wonderful hormone-fueled stirring of tension, waiting to see if he's kiss me.  This was followed by the turn-on of the actual kiss.  The enchantment of connecting with another person in such a way; the wanting of it to go on forever.  And certain mysteries were revealed:  did he smell of soap or sweat, was he a sloppy or skilled kisser, did this mean he really liked me and would he ask me to slow dance again?

It was all quite extraordinary really.  What I wouldn't give to feel that rousing right now!  But I think this might be a sign of me needing some excitement in my life in general.  I swore I would never do online dating agin though.  Maybe I should take a class....

* A shout out to a few of my fave old-school romance novelists:  Nora Roberts, Johanna Lindsey, Jude Deveraux, Judith McNaught, Virginia Henley, Judith Krantz, Rosamunde Pilcher, Susan Elizabeth Phillips, Mary Balough, and more...


Popular posts from this blog

homage to an ex

I am a sucker for a good romantic story and I have started many a questionable relationship just because the storyline was hot.  The most solid example of this is the case of my first husband, the only difference is that he wasn't questionable.  He was pretty great.

In 1989 I was a wild child, free-spirited, rockabilly art student, living in San Francisco with a couple of more conservative "normal"  young women.  One of the women had a friend from college who was an officer in the Marine Corps and we were all invited down to Twenty Nine Palms to visit him and his friend on base.  I thought it would be kitsch to go; it appealed to my sense of the ironic.  Little did I know I would fall in love.  With the desert.  A searing 104 degrees melted all my tensions and aggressions and the two Marines turned out to be super cool.  We shared a similar love of Elvis,  classic old movies starring Humphrey Bogart, and cheap whiskey.  They both had romantic sensibilities which may be …

a dark place

I’ve been watching a lot of dark movies and tv shows lately only they don't feel dark to me. They feel matter-of-fact, like "Yeah, that's how life is".  Does that mean I am depressed?  My friend K and her husband are hooked on serial killer true crime tv shows and K is normal.  Does that mean I am normal?  Usually I avoid anything remotely dark but nowadays it seems to suit me.  And at this time of year there is usually a season of Dancing With The Stars to perk me up (see post What Gets Me Through) but they are forgoing the early spring season in order to revamp the show, so I am left high and dry and watching Inside Look:  The Assassination of Gianni Versace, American Crime Story.

Ever since I was a little girl I've been afraid of the dark - literally.  I was always scared there was something evil and dangerous lurking and even to this day I am wary.  When I was a teenager my parents always warned me about going out after dark as if being out and about at nigh…

on sex & romance

I grew up watching classic movies from the 40s and 50s.  Every Saturday I'd be glued to the tv instead of playing outdoors like my mom urged me to do.  And as I watched Holiday Inn last night I was thinking that those classic movie star men influenced how I think men ought to be.  There was Cary Grant, Bing Crosby, William Powell, Gene Kelly, and even a young Frank Sinatra.  They were witty and wry, devilish and dashing, stoic and strong, and gentlemanly and kind.  In other words, the impossible dream.  Somewhere in the back of my mind I hold this ideal, the fake fantasy of a fake man, from a bygone era.  And it's not helping my current state of being bored with sex and romance.

I have no sex drive, no ooomph, not spark of interest which could be a result of menopause or even underlying depression.  I have a few friends my age who seem to be in the same boat.  But mostly I think it's boredom.  I went to my gynecologist the other day to see if there was a pill she could gi…