When I was young, I would always dream about what my first kiss would be like. I hate to admit it now, but in my tween years I was consumed with the idea. I was never the teeny-bop kind of girl who read J-14 to figure out Zac Efron’s favourite breakfast food or Nick Jonas’s dream date. I didn’t start wearing make-up until I was 18, didn’t own high heels until I was 19, and, as of writing this, still haven’t been in a steady relationship at 20.
I was more the awkward teen who spent recess fawning over the latest fantasy Young Adult novel in the library. I watched anime in my room instead of going to the school dance. I put my schoolwork before my love life. Even so, my heart would flutter at the thought of locking lips with the boy of my dreams.
Wow, it almost physically hurts to write that, but it’s true. I’m a closeted romantic. Even if my actions never seemed to indicate that I wanted young love, my entire being internally desired it. In my head, I pictured a shy, sweet kiss, me slightly tip-toeing to reach his soft lips, our hands intertwined as the sun set on a lazy summer evening. However, life didn’t pan out like a Wes Anderson movie — at least not for me.
What I expected was a loving embrace from my soulmate.
As much as I love her to bits, she is not my Ryan Gosling.
What I got was a wet, drunken smooch on the dance floor in a nightclub from my intoxicated female friend. As much as I love her to bits, she is not my Ryan Gosling.
Though the events of that night are a tad hazy due to all the alcohol, I distinctly remember the feeling of her lips pressed against mine. She is shorter than me, so she had to hold my head closer to her face. And I could tell she was much drunker than I was, but not by a large margin. With ‘EDM-ified’ top 40 hits as our soundtrack, blue spotlights dancing around us to set the stage, and the faint smell of long island iced teas, we felt the moment and we kissed.
It wasn’t an unpleasant experience; rather, it was quite the opposite. When I kissed her, I did not feel like I had lost anything, or given anything up. I did not feel like I had wasted my first real kiss, or that it had been taken from me. Although it wasn’t the type of romance I was anticipating, it was nevertheless a spontaneous expression of love and friendship.
Even if I am pretty straight along the sexuality spectrum, having my first kiss with a girl is something that I am not ashamed of. I feel as though there is too much hype attached to the notion of a ‘first kiss,’ and if you are going to kiss someone, it might as well be with someone you care about, and who also cares about you.
