It was a bright, sunny day and I was set to meet a guy. Not just any guy: he was pretty cute and seventeen with a capital "S." I, on the other hand, was an inexperienced thirteen-year-old. But, of course, he didn't know that. I was standing next to the ticket counter wearing a pair of faded jeans and a T-shirt in an attempt to deter my mother from doubting that I was going to see a movie with "one of my friends." He walked up from behind me and pulled my hand. I turned back and flashed him a huge grin. He WAS cute. I had been a little doubtful, since the last time I saw him was in a dark lounge with disco lights blaring everywhere. He paid for my tickets and took my hand as we walked up the stairs. Then he opened the door for me. At this time I was dancing in my head. He was a gentleman!
My elation soon turned to despair 30 minutes into the movie. He was looking at me with those eyes. Those eyes that said "I want to stick my tongue in your mouth." I stared straight at the screen, worried any movement in his direction would result in a....kiss. You know, I always wondered how people learnt how to kiss. I mean, was it innate? A dominant trait passed on from generation to generation? I was befuddled, because the young, unassuming girls I saw in movies always knew how to curl their tongues and purse their lips in a way that rendered the guy speechless. Whereas, to my dismay, the face of my palm had received countless smooches and I was still clueless.
He threw popcorn at my face in a successful ploy to get me to face him (sly fox). "FUDGE. FUDGE.FUDGE. FUDGE," I thought. He went for it. But....our specs collided rather than our lips. I let out a nervous laugh but he still had a stern, determined look on his face. He slowly took off my glasses and pressed his lips on mine. I moved my lips subtly to the rhythm of his, and it was fine until he stuck his tongue in my mouth and started to move really fast. Then I really didn't know what to do. So I winged it. I moved my tongue in a clockwise direction first and then counter, and very soon I really didn't know what I was doing. He kept going for like a minute while I desperately tried to divert his hands away from my boobs. After another excruciating minute, he finally pulled away from me and whispered, "You're a really good kisser."
"Yeah so are you..." I replied, trying not to sound sarcastic. Dirty groper. I put my hand over my mouth and made coughing noises, but I was really wiping the saliva off from underneath my nose....and from all around my mouth.
For the rest of the movie, he "kissed" me three more times: once holding my hair, then my face, then my neck. He was relentless. So instead of butterflies, I have traces of his saliva floating around somewhere in my stomach (I heard it lasts for years).