My First Kiss :: Personal Narrative

My First KissKissing a watermelon? No, Ive never been THAT desperate. My sister Amy went on to tell me to the highest degree her friend who dared to do such a feat. Did it help? I asked. We dont know She hasnt kissed a real guy yet Amy and I burst into a fit of giggles, and I realized how being in the company of my younger sister regressed me to her awkward, girlish high school age. I had forgotten, until this bedside 200 a.m. conversation, how I used to be obsessed with popularity and sports cars, and how I daydreamed of my introductory kiss. But Amy had much more experience than I did at her age. She and her friends had passed their adolescent initiation of first kissesat least the kind on the lips. In the back of the CHURCH van? With everyone watching? Where did he kiss you? On the LIPS she squealed. Amys excitement and fear about kissing ignited a rush of memories. How I used to romanticize about first kissing some one I thought that I would be in a long flowing gown, and the handsome young man would bring me flowers, and ask to court me. Our kiss would be done on the porch, under an encouraging moon and a harmony of stars. Or maybe I would be in a MacDonalds, and the most good-looking guy Id ever seen would come to my table, buy me a hot fudge sundae, and he give me a kiss when he walked me to my car. Ah, the kiss was exciting to say about as well. I had no idea what it would be like, but I knew it would feel wonderful. This quick pucker and follow-through would be my initiation into womanhood, someway setting me apart from other girls who could barely fill a bra or who, as rumors went, practiced kissing by mutilating fruit. A rite of passage, a first romance, yes. But my girlish head had set itself upon one quest I would be truly in love with the young man I first