I kissed a boy on the first date for the very first time when I was 28. And it was – well, AMAZING. I know it sounds mad cliche, but for real? FIREWORKS. And while I’m not sure if it was my heart or my hormones that ignited them, Disneyland’s firework show still ain’t got nothing on it.
For many, the significance of a first kiss, or a kiss in general, has diminished down to non-existent. But a bitch like me is not just old, but also “old-school”. So a kiss is not just a kiss. It’s me letting you in, even if just a little bit. It’s me saying without words, “Yah, I could do this. With YOU.” And only you.
I remember the first time I kissed you hello when I hopped in the car. It took a while for me to warm up to that. I didn’t know if it was allowed yet. If it was OK. But you were on the phone talking to your mom and moved the receiver out of the way and leaned in with a, “Hey baby.” And ever since then, you always got a hello, good-bye kiss like that.
Except for this morning.
Because this morning things suddenly became different. And instead of me telling you, I let the lips do the talking. Because I was too scared to actually say anything. Too scared to let you know that to me, a kiss is more than just a kiss. And too scared to ask if you felt the same. So instead, of closing my eyes. Instead of kissing you on the lips. Instead of sucking on your lower lip and feeling the roughness of your stubble on my chin. Instead of smiling as we parted – I kept my eyes open, gave you my right shoulder … and right cheek and let out a disappointed sigh that I made sure you couldn’t hear as I closed your car door.
And I don’t know if you noticed all of this. But if you did. If you care, then I’m so. so. sorry. But just know that I didn’t kiss you good-bye because I didn’t want to. (I’d like to kiss you right now if I could.) And it’s not because I’m not feeling you anymore. (Maybe I’m feeling you too much?). It was only because I didn’t ever want to have to kiss you good-bye for the last time.