My First Kiss – Survived by Sarah

WHO: Older Brother Guy

WHAT: My first kiss

WHEN: Age 16, very early 2000ish

WHERE: A dark movie theatre in Grass Valley, CA. How very romcom of me.

WHY: 16, never been kissed, lonely, angsty, and desperate

THE DATE
Well, I’d never been on a date before this. I was in the throes of teen angst, and I was super awkward about boys. I’d never really had anyone interested in me, and I’d spent most of the last few years pining away over boys who in all likelihood had no idea I existed.

I was a late bloomer socially, and growing up in a small town with the same kids my whole life didn’t really help things. I don’t even remember when I got boobs, but it doesn’t seem like that helped things at all.

One of my very best guy friends moved to another country for our high school Junior year to study abroad, and his absence made my heart grow fonder. We started “dating” after he moved away, and we wrote each other pages and pages of letters. But I eventually realized I just loved him as a friend and we “broke up” several months before he returned.

I didn’t handle the whole thing very well. I made it much more dramatic than it was because I so desperately wanted to be one of those people who had relationship stuff to handle. And I hurt him in the process of finding myself and being selfish, which I’ll always regret.

To really twist the knife, I started hanging out with his older brother and his friends, who I had always been incredibly intimidated by and thought were so cool.

Maybe it was out of spite because I was being a shithead teen at the time, but for some reason I agreed to go on a date with Older Brother Guy. He had always teased me and tickled me and I was excited that he appeared to like me. He was also the first person who had ever asked me out on a date, so I obviously said yes. I was desperate to real life date someone. Anyone.

Older Brother Guy picked me up at my house and took me to a pizza place and paid. It was thrilling and terrifying. I felt like I was in a movie, even if I wasn’t particularly interested in the date I was with. And I had definitely lied to my mom about who I was hanging out with because I knew she would never have let me go.

After dinner he took me to the movie theatre he and all his friends had or still worked at. He got us in free and we got free popcorn and I swooned a little. A proper date!

We went to see Scream 3, the most perfectly unromantic date film. I sat there on edge the whole time, and it was only partially because I was terrified of the horror film we were watching. It was dark. Was he going to kiss me?

The end credits rolled and I was a little disappointed. No move had been made. Everyone was leaving. Maybe I’d misread the situation.

Then suddenly when the theatre was empty, he turned to me, put his arm around my shoulders, and jammed his mouth into my face.

It was weird, but I went with it.

He pulled back and said, “You’ve never Frenched anyone before have you?”

I blushed and shook my head.

“I can tell,” he said as he jammed his tongue down my throat.

I thought to myself, “Oh yeah? Well what does it say about your kissing ability if I’ve never kissed anyone before and can still tell you’re terrible at it?”

He drove me home and we never went out again, but I’ve never had any kissing complaints since. Douche.