Let’s just get right into it, shall we? So, as some of you may already know, I was a bit of a late bloomer. I’ve spent most of my life looking a lot like this:
Needless to say, I kind of missed out on having high school boyfriends and things like that. I was always just doing my own thing! It was great! In my time not having any boyfriends I learned a ton of life skills! Like being able to recite the 50 states in alphabetical order in under 17 seconds! (For the record, I did it in 15 seconds once in college when I was drunk off gin but I haven’t been able to touch that time since.) I also learned how to wiggle my ears and flare my nostrils. I can make a muscle with my tongue. And I can rap all of It Was A Good Day by Ice Cube. Really all the quality things you need to succeed in life! No regrets.
Today I’m writing about kisses. My first kiss to be exact. See, it’s funny—I watched a TON of Disney Channel growing up. I learned what a first kiss should be like from Lizzie McGuire and Mia Mignonette Thermopolis Renaldi, PrinCESS of Genovia. Your foot should “pop,” there should be fireworks, or maybe someone would even tell me, “you shine like the light from the sun.”
I was brainwashed by all the sappy shit. I was ready. Sadly, high school came and went with still no kisses. You are reading this correctly—I had my first kiss in college. *Insert angel emoji here.*
So yeah, there I was in college without a first kiss. I used to think about that movie Never Been Kissed and I just thought to myself as long as I didn’t get as old as Drew Barrymore’s character without being kissed, I would be all good.
The night of my first kiss was a weird one. I was out with friends having a grand ole time, drinking some gin, smiling, dancing—it was great. When all of a sudden, an equally drunk friend comes over and attempts to kiss me while I had a full on smile on my face. It was a second or two of lip to teeth action. Granted my teeth are pretty nice, I’d kiss them too. But in my intoxicated mind, this counted as my first kiss. But my foot didn’t pop, there were no fireworks, and no one told me I shine like the light from the sun!
I’m not going to lie to you, I cried. BUT I BLAME THE GIN! WAY TOO MUCH GIN! Funny thing, gin, isn’t it? Something so beautiful and pure as gin can give you wonderful things like a personal record for reciting the 50 states in alphabetical order, but it can also give you tears when your foot doesn’t “pop.”
Rest assured folks, I’ve been making up for lost time. Don’t feel bad for me, I’ve gotten plenty of kisses and popping in since then. (AAAYYYYEEEE!) But that’s a story for another time.
I’m sorry mom,
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