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enamouredI almost got my first kiss when I was twelve.
I was playing truth or dare on the playground with classmates during the second-to-last day of sixth grade. One of the girls I was playing with dared me to kiss the boy I'd had the biggest crush on. The guy was less than thrilled about the prospect, and even tried to bribe me with money to not kiss him.
I really wanted to kiss him. I'd had a crush on him since fourth grade. He had been the first boy I slow-danced with, and that was only four months prior to this moment. Everyone knew that I liked him, as everyone knows everyone else's business when you go to a small Catholic school. I wroteoverwrought heartfelt poetry about this guy and cried over the fact that he didn't like me the same way that I liked him. And here I was, presented with this opportunity to kiss him and he didn't want any part in it, and I had no idea what to do. And finally, after him pleading and everyone else goading me on, I thought to myself, I'm not going to kiss anyone who doesn't want to kiss me. I felt incredibly proud of that decision later, convinced that in a few more years things would be great, and in high school I'd be kissing some amazing guy who'd make me forget all about that boy in middle school and truth or dare.
That amazing guy in high school never showed up.
I will be twenty-five in a few more hours, and I still haven't been kissed yet.
When I was thirteen, I was obsessed with various teen magazines. One of my favorites was YM, and they used to publish a special edition issue called the "Love" issue. During the summer of 1999 I bought one and I vividly remember an article in that about first kisses. According to YM's reader survey, the age of the average first kiss was thirteen, and I remember feeling somewhat distraught that I was thirteen at that point and hadn't been kissed. But it was okay, I thought, because I still had a few more months left of being thirteen and I could kiss someone.
No kiss at thirteen. But there were more pressing matters and other things to be upset about when I turned fourteen, like the fact that I was going to be moving to Texas and away from the only home I'd ever known.
Freshman year of high school passed, then sophomore year. I turned sixteen in 2001, and I loathed knowing that I fell into that sad category of "sweet sixteen and never been kissed." Nearly a thousand miles away, my best friend started listening to pop-punk and got a boyfriend of her own, even though she hadn't been particularly drawn to guys who weren't pop stars prior to that. My brother, then fourteen, was getting notes from a girl who went to a rival middle school. After coming to terms with the fact that the senior guy I'd had a crush on was gay, I remember sourly thinking about the fact that when my parents were sixteen, they'd first started dating each other.
I couldn't wait to go off to college senior year, because I hoped that I'd be able to break out of the rut. I'd be away from home, become my own person, and meet guys who would be smart and funny and ambitious and good-looking, and who would be interested in me. Instead, I ran into more guys like the ones who'd hit on me in high school, most of them unimpressive and wanting to holla at me. Then there was Dylan, who I gave my cell phone number to. I spent two months hoping for him to call me but knowing that he never would.
I turned twenty and got a job. I turned twenty-one and met John, who I confided in. No one else at work knew about my complete and total lack of experience, but I told him. In turn, he occasionally gave me tips and flirted with me and for the first time in my life, someone who I was interested in was paying attention to me and making me feel remotely desirable. I knew he was seeing someone, but figured that if he was being so blatantly flirty with me, why not make a move? (Yeah, not smart, but people do stupid things when hormones are involved.)
So one day when traffic was slow, I approached him as I usually did and coyly asked him if he'd kiss me. He said, "Uh, I have a girlfriend."
I sat in a stall in the women's restroom and wondered how I could have been so stupid.
Twenty-two came. John got married and became a father. My brother had been with his high school girlfriend for two years now. Twenty-three passed.
I logged onto Facebook a few months ago and saw that my childhood best friend had gotten married over the summer. It's surreal, because I saw her get her first kiss. We were nine and this boy who she and about half the girls in our grade had ridiculous crushes on kissed her, and she ran away screaming.
More and more of my friends from childhood and friends from high school are getting married. And here I am, still in school, still never been kissed.
The thing is this: it's okay for someone to have not been kissed up until about sixteen. Even seventeen and eighteen is fine, if not pushing it a bit. But when you get beyond that, it starts to become sad and weird. People start wondering what's wrong with you or if you're one of those people who vows to not kiss anyone until you're married. And that's not to mention the expectations that come after you've passed that threshold. When you're still in high school and haven't kissed anyone and you start dating, it's okay because there is at the very least the social expectation that you don't have to do anything even if people don't necessarily follow it. When you're in college and you haven't been kissed or been on a date or been mutually attracted to someone, a thousand things become problematic. Will your partner be understanding enough to go slow for your sake? Will your partner be understanding of your inexperience? Will your partner expect things that you don't feel entirely comfortable doing?
Will your partner leave you because of this, or will they take advantage of your inexperience just for the sake of being the first person to go there with you only to leave?
There are a ton of things that have kept me from getting kissed. The guys I'm into aren't usually into me. The guys who are into me are usually unattractive to me. I can't read cues so that I know when someone I like isn't into me. I have anxiety issues. After years and years of being rejected or ignored by the people who I want, it is very, very hard for me to approach anyone without the barrage of what ifs and doubts running through my mind: Does he have a girlfriend? Will he care that I have crooked teeth? Does he like black girls? Is he only talking to me because of my bra size? Is he actually listening to what I say?
People tell you when you're a teenager that "your time will come", that good things happen to those who wait and you'll meet someone when you least expect it. I've heard those things over and over and all I want to shout is: WHEN THE FUCK IS IT GOING TO FINALLY HAPPEN TO ME? It didn't happen when I was thirteen or sixteen or eighteen or twenty-one, and I'm thisclose to twenty-five and it still hasn't happened. I have so much going for me: I'm studying what I love, I'm smart and I'm told I have a good sense of humor and I'm not completely repulsive. I know that there's more to life than relationships and Lord knows I am not the type of woman who believes that my goal in life is to Get Married and Have Babies, but all I want is to be wanted and loved. Why can't I get that?
That was very long, and if you read that all, you deserve a medal.
I was playing truth or dare on the playground with classmates during the second-to-last day of sixth grade. One of the girls I was playing with dared me to kiss the boy I'd had the biggest crush on. The guy was less than thrilled about the prospect, and even tried to bribe me with money to not kiss him.
I really wanted to kiss him. I'd had a crush on him since fourth grade. He had been the first boy I slow-danced with, and that was only four months prior to this moment. Everyone knew that I liked him, as everyone knows everyone else's business when you go to a small Catholic school. I wrote
That amazing guy in high school never showed up.
I will be twenty-five in a few more hours, and I still haven't been kissed yet.
When I was thirteen, I was obsessed with various teen magazines. One of my favorites was YM, and they used to publish a special edition issue called the "Love" issue. During the summer of 1999 I bought one and I vividly remember an article in that about first kisses. According to YM's reader survey, the age of the average first kiss was thirteen, and I remember feeling somewhat distraught that I was thirteen at that point and hadn't been kissed. But it was okay, I thought, because I still had a few more months left of being thirteen and I could kiss someone.
No kiss at thirteen. But there were more pressing matters and other things to be upset about when I turned fourteen, like the fact that I was going to be moving to Texas and away from the only home I'd ever known.
Freshman year of high school passed, then sophomore year. I turned sixteen in 2001, and I loathed knowing that I fell into that sad category of "sweet sixteen and never been kissed." Nearly a thousand miles away, my best friend started listening to pop-punk and got a boyfriend of her own, even though she hadn't been particularly drawn to guys who weren't pop stars prior to that. My brother, then fourteen, was getting notes from a girl who went to a rival middle school. After coming to terms with the fact that the senior guy I'd had a crush on was gay, I remember sourly thinking about the fact that when my parents were sixteen, they'd first started dating each other.
I couldn't wait to go off to college senior year, because I hoped that I'd be able to break out of the rut. I'd be away from home, become my own person, and meet guys who would be smart and funny and ambitious and good-looking, and who would be interested in me. Instead, I ran into more guys like the ones who'd hit on me in high school, most of them unimpressive and wanting to holla at me. Then there was Dylan, who I gave my cell phone number to. I spent two months hoping for him to call me but knowing that he never would.
I turned twenty and got a job. I turned twenty-one and met John, who I confided in. No one else at work knew about my complete and total lack of experience, but I told him. In turn, he occasionally gave me tips and flirted with me and for the first time in my life, someone who I was interested in was paying attention to me and making me feel remotely desirable. I knew he was seeing someone, but figured that if he was being so blatantly flirty with me, why not make a move? (Yeah, not smart, but people do stupid things when hormones are involved.)
So one day when traffic was slow, I approached him as I usually did and coyly asked him if he'd kiss me. He said, "Uh, I have a girlfriend."
I sat in a stall in the women's restroom and wondered how I could have been so stupid.
Twenty-two came. John got married and became a father. My brother had been with his high school girlfriend for two years now. Twenty-three passed.
I logged onto Facebook a few months ago and saw that my childhood best friend had gotten married over the summer. It's surreal, because I saw her get her first kiss. We were nine and this boy who she and about half the girls in our grade had ridiculous crushes on kissed her, and she ran away screaming.
More and more of my friends from childhood and friends from high school are getting married. And here I am, still in school, still never been kissed.
The thing is this: it's okay for someone to have not been kissed up until about sixteen. Even seventeen and eighteen is fine, if not pushing it a bit. But when you get beyond that, it starts to become sad and weird. People start wondering what's wrong with you or if you're one of those people who vows to not kiss anyone until you're married. And that's not to mention the expectations that come after you've passed that threshold. When you're still in high school and haven't kissed anyone and you start dating, it's okay because there is at the very least the social expectation that you don't have to do anything even if people don't necessarily follow it. When you're in college and you haven't been kissed or been on a date or been mutually attracted to someone, a thousand things become problematic. Will your partner be understanding enough to go slow for your sake? Will your partner be understanding of your inexperience? Will your partner expect things that you don't feel entirely comfortable doing?
Will your partner leave you because of this, or will they take advantage of your inexperience just for the sake of being the first person to go there with you only to leave?
There are a ton of things that have kept me from getting kissed. The guys I'm into aren't usually into me. The guys who are into me are usually unattractive to me. I can't read cues so that I know when someone I like isn't into me. I have anxiety issues. After years and years of being rejected or ignored by the people who I want, it is very, very hard for me to approach anyone without the barrage of what ifs and doubts running through my mind: Does he have a girlfriend? Will he care that I have crooked teeth? Does he like black girls? Is he only talking to me because of my bra size? Is he actually listening to what I say?
People tell you when you're a teenager that "your time will come", that good things happen to those who wait and you'll meet someone when you least expect it. I've heard those things over and over and all I want to shout is: WHEN THE FUCK IS IT GOING TO FINALLY HAPPEN TO ME? It didn't happen when I was thirteen or sixteen or eighteen or twenty-one, and I'm thisclose to twenty-five and it still hasn't happened. I have so much going for me: I'm studying what I love, I'm smart and I'm told I have a good sense of humor and I'm not completely repulsive. I know that there's more to life than relationships and Lord knows I am not the type of woman who believes that my goal in life is to Get Married and Have Babies, but all I want is to be wanted and loved. Why can't I get that?
That was very long, and if you read that all, you deserve a medal.
