My first kiss went a little like this…

I could say that I look back on my first kiss with fond memories. I could say that the boy who gave me my first kiss was my first love. I could say that my first kiss was special and I couldn’t wait to kiss him again.

{Image courtesy of Idea Go / FreeDigitalPhotos.net}

Blah. Who am I kidding? I can’t say any of that crap.

I was shy, y’all. Painfully shy. To the point where I didn’t speak to people unless they spoke to me first, and even then my words were fairly limited. Boys included. Besides, my first date wasn’t allowed to happen until I was 16 years old, per my father’s strict orders.

So here’s the story: I was 15 years old, and had only had a few “boyfriends” that, thankfully, seemed to want nothing more than to hold my hand and call me their girlfriend. I was satisfied with that, because the thought of locking lips with any of them made my skin crawl. (It wasn’t them, really. It was the sheer fact that we were friends before we became boyfriend/girlfriend, and it was just weird.) And yeah, I’m aware that I was a late bloomer…shyness, guys.

I met Joey* when my parents dragged me to the bowling alley every Friday night for the League of Extraordinary Bowlers. (Maybe it was Thursday night. I don’t remember. I also don’t remember the actual name of the league. All I knew was that I didn’t want to be there, so I sulked the entire time and demanded money for the game room. And I wonder where my daughter gets it from.) Joey’s parents also dragged him along. He was a few months younger than me, and I thought he was really super duper cute. Brown hair, brown eyes, olive skin. Obviously, my tendencies towards men like that started very early. One flash of the puppy dog eyes, and I was a goner.

So, once a week, Joey and I would pitch hissy fits, demand money from our parents, and hang out in the game room for a few hours. We would double dog dare my little brother and his little sister to come anywhere near us. (Oddly enough, those two had a little boyfriend/girlfriend time of their own later on. Which was a little bit creepy.) We learned that we were from the same town, and while it wasn’t that surprising that we didn’t already know each other because I went to a different school, it did help because we knew some of the same people. It also made it easier, when he could talk his mom into dropping him off at my house to hang out, and we watched Beavis and Butthead and listen to Hip Hop Hurray on repeat in my room. I’m serious, that’s what we did. Would I lie to you? Never.

This went on for a little over a month, and then Joey asked me to be his girlfriend. Naturally, I said yes, because Hello? Puppy Dog Eyes. Can’t.Say.No.

Then it happened. One night, while playing a game of super mini-golf in the game room, he kissed me. There were no angels singing, no fireworks over our heads, no foot pop. Nada. Zip. Just the roving tongue of a 15 year old boy. Yeah, I know. Gross. That’s how I felt too. I don’t really know what I was expecting, but it sure didn’t live up to anything.

Our “relationship” was short lived, only a few months. And that’s pretty much all it consisted of: bowling alley game room, Beavis and Butthead, and very awkward moments. It never got any better.

So what did I do? My 16th birthday rolled around, I got my driver’s license, my dad got a car for me to drive, and I dumped poor Joey like yesterday’s news in late May (a week after his birthday). On the phone. Because, ya know, text messaging wasn’t exactly a big thing back then.

Sure, I had brief flashes of guilt. I’m not completely heartless. I had just learned to look past the puppy dog eyes, and at the age of 16 I was somewhat in demand…it’s like an announcement was in the newspaper, “She’s 16, come forth and date!” Between the time when I broke up with Joey, I dated three guys before meeting my future husband in early October.

Luckily, Beavis and Butthead was never a problem for me again. Although I do still laugh and think of Joey when I hear Hip Hop Hurray on the 90’s radio station…

*Name changed to protect the somewhat innocent, but sadly misguided boy who subjected me to all those painful hours of MTV. Oh, and I might have changed his name to Joey because of my childhood crush on Joey McIntyre.

{originally posted March 2010…updated and recycled to link up with #GoingGreen at The Mommy Mess}