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First Kiss January 11, 2011

Posted by Lauren Cooke in Life, Chatter & Politics.
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Following reading Belgian Waffle’s wonderful First Kiss post, I ended up reminiscing about my first kisses, as they are apparently some of the most vivid memories that we have. I suspect all “First Kiss” articles will have this sort of effect, plunging the reader into a pool of sublime memories, embarrassing recollections, and romantic encounters that make you feel weak at the knees. I also suspect that I am not the only person that Guardian article has inspired to blog in a totally introverted way about their personal experiences!

My first, first kiss was, to be honest, a travesty. There I was, 16 and with a head full of boys, and kissing, and imagined passions with fellow students who had beautiful hands, the perfect hair, and a sense of humour I still remember fondly now. With such grandiose ideas the reality was bound to be a let down, and that it was; from the fake “falling asleep” on the shoulder of my new holiday boyfriend, to the awkward pecking, to the way his tongue attempted to touch mine. Horrible, of course, and mentally scarring to say the least.

The kiss I count as my first “real” kiss, however, was spectacular. He was older than me, an athlete, and my young and lifeguarding self had been eagerly eyeing up his wet t-shirt clad body for many a week. There was flirting, of the embarrassing-now-you-look-back-on-it level, and it all culminated in a stroll down by the river, and a passionate hair-tousling kiss that proved to me that maybe there was hope for the male of the species. It was one night of wild snogging, which stayed with me for years, and I have always been thankful to have the opportunity to discover that kissing is awesome.

Beyond my young school days, the next “first kiss” would have to be Ben, and a good one it was too. Amongst all the promiscuity and drunkness of first year uni, the night that I met a boy dressed as a flower-pot will always stand out in my mind. I remember dancing in the club, in my typical wild fashion, and eventually finding myself in the arms of that very same boy, pushed against a pillar and being kissed as if my life depended on it. Breath taking, and enough to have me in swoons of lust for weeks following, and in love for years.

Now I am back in the territory of first kisses again, and I have to say that I am glad. There is something timid, fabulous and utterly enjoyable about the first time you get close to someone like that, and it was always one of the things I missed when in a relationship. They are of course too recent to be reminisced over, but I hope that there will be plenty more kisses, and plenty more first kisses, to come.

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