The Last First Kiss

June 13, 1985. Do you know what you were doing that day? I sure do.

The magic of a first kiss

It was my last day of seventh grade and after school, a whole crew of us went to hang out at Jenny L's house. I had been going out with my first boyfriend, a fellow seventh grader, since March. I was very boy-shy in middle school, and so by this day in June, we had yet to kiss. But this was the day. We were sending seventh grade out with a bang.

Or maybe just some slobber.

The kiss happened in the closed in entryway at Jenny's house, right by the door that led inside. It was dark and musty, and the space was used for storage, so it was a bit cluttered. I was so nervous. I closed my eyes and met his mouth and got even more nervous. And then it ended. I was relieved, excited, and well, confused.

The kiss wasn't good. I had no basis for comparison, so I didn't know it wasn't good at the time. I didn't really like it. I liked that I had finally had my first kiss, and I liked that it was with this boy whom I adored. The rest, well, I would learn some time later that kissing was actually enjoyable and when it is really good, can make your knees buckle a little.

When you get married, you think you've experienced your last first kiss ever, and it is not a sad thing. It is exciting, embarking on this lifelong journey with the person you love most in the world.

Then he cheats, and you know that you are no longer his last first kiss.

That was a hard one for me to work through. It took a long time. As Lynn Lyons would say, I ruminated over this for way too long. Until the divorce, to be honest, so four long years.

Then I met Lance, and we fell in love and things were good. I thought he might be my last first kiss. When we broke up the second time, we each dated someone else, and that was it. We were not each other's last first kiss. When we got back together and I thought this was it, this is the guy I'm going to be with to the end, I had to let go of the romanticism of the last first kiss.

When he, too, betrayed me, the whole last first kiss concept opened again.

And it happened. Again. But again, it wasn't meant to last.

You have to kiss a lot of frogs before you find your prince.

Now that I'm diving back into the world of dating, I am nervous about this whole kissing thing. And I find myself romanticizing that last first kiss once again.

The quiet thunder before a lifetime of love.

That moment that signals the beginning of a promise that says, "Of all the people in the world, I found you."

The kiss that holds the innocence of hello and the gravity of forever in a single breath.

A last first kiss changes your memory of all others—the one that rewrites your story from chapter one.

I don't really want to kiss a bunch of frogs, but I supposed it is inevitable to find that one guy I enjoy being with. They say there is someone for everyone. I'd love to believe that is true, but right now, I'm too attuned to the red flags. That, however, is a story for another day.