#TBT to the second post I ever wrote for Accidentally Sexy on October 20, 2009.
In seventh grade, I had my starry eyes glued to the pages of Seventeen and YM. I read every tip and hint they could possibly have offered for securing that coveted first kiss. I studied the methods and varieties of kissing as if it was a prerequisite for becoming a teenager. Without these skills, you would stay twelve forever.
Technically, I had my frist kiss at the tender age of seven. Don't be jealous, but he was a total catch. My neighbor, Timmy, lived in a house at the top of a hill, which was super sweet for riding down really fast on my bike. After an elaborate marriage ceremony officiated by my sister from the top of the play set club house, Timmy and I ran into the bushes for my very first lip to lip peck.
For all intents and purposes, this qualifies as my first kiss. With six years between that playground flirtation and my next real smooch, I really felt I needed to bone up on my kiss IQ. Round two: I had the right flavor of lip gloss, the right body splash, the right outfit. But once again, it came and went without incident during a game of truth-or-dare. I felt a little cheated. Where were the sweaty palms I had read about? I wanted to spend some time with it, learning the feeling and warmth of another person's mouth. I wanted to feel my heart beating out of my chest.
At 25, the novelty of kissing has never gone away. I've explored the varieties of men on offer for making out: short guys, tall guys, athletes, musicians. So many times, however, I come up for air feeling...well...bored.
Two weeks ago, I kissed someone new. It was unexpected and exciting. I've got to admit, there was a moment where I had to catch my breath. With every new kiss, there's a moment of hope, a moment where you ask "will this be the one that knocks me off my feet?" And even when it's not, it's always worth asking.
What was your most memorable first kiss?