Dating Chronicles of the Weird Kind

My First Kiss

Fifteen and innocently single, I sat next to who I thought was the girl of my dreams. Not because I loved her, or felt that I could love her. But because she was the only one I was comfortable talking to, and lately I had been having somewhat explicit dreams about her.

Already at that age, I was grossly overweight, or as I liked to put it, horizontally challenged. A condition which only furthered itself over the span of my life. A nerd, which stares almost with equal amazement onto math books, as I did onto porn. You see, internet was not yet a house hold thing. Subscriptions to playboy were unheard of. All we had to go by were the lingerie ad cut-outs from magazines like Grah Shobha and Sarita (meant for middle aged women). And of course, the one off friend's cousin who has a "magazine", we have only heard descriptions of.

Six curious boys, each of who are edging at the cusp of puberty  huddle around a cutout of a white unlaced, feeding bra and a model. They are amazed by the versatility of the garment but more so on the almost identifiable curves.  The woman is smiling and is comfortable being on a print magazine in such clothes. Just imagine what she'll be willing to do in private, one boy wondered. Another boy (read: me) visibily confused and perplexed by the series of emotions and feelings going in his brain, as well as the sudden rush of blood not experienced before wonders if others are feeling this way. The eldest of the group announces to the group about how he's seen much better and even held one of them. He, unlike all other boys in the group has a girlfriend. Similarly at the edge of puberty. While none of the boys believe a word, they all are insanely jealous. Yearning for action. Yearning, for the opposite sex to be kinder and magically see the goodness in us.

I decided it was time for me to get a girlfriend. I had seen enough American TV shows to convince me that kissing is an American concept. The only time I saw kissing in Indian TV was during particular unsavoury rape scenes, where I was promptly told to fetch the water. I decided I'll rather live like an American and get kissed consensually. The American way just looked more inviting and had prospects of easier future kisses.  Soon began a search which lasted about 6 months for the first pair of lips to bless mine. I didn't understand why I wanted to be kissed or kiss someone, but I was sure that it's something I need to do as soon as possible.

Stumped about where to begin, I spoke to the eldest of my group. I enquired how did they kiss someone and they described to me in full graphic detail how they kissed their girlfriend. A description which for the longest time I believed to be the right way to kiss. A description which would be the base of my first kiss. Suffice to say, that description was a gross misrepresentation of what a kiss is supposed to be.

Six months pass, and my search has led me nowhere. I can hardly muster the courage to talk to a girl, let alone to ask them to kiss me.

Enter, my first kiss.

It was early dusk, and her and I are sitting next to each other on a bench in a park. The winds are strong as as Asoka leaves are blowing past us with enough ferocity to break down a house. This is where my search has brought me to. The only female friend I'm comfortable talking to. I'm going to kiss her.

I weighed my options in my head. If I go for it and she is not amused, I completely wreck our friendship and face a future with no female presence.
Upside, I get to kiss someone and show off my amazing kissing technique which will make her beg for more.

The choice was clear. I had to go for it. The rumblings in my stomach was deafening, either from being nervous or from being painfully hungry.

I have had one too many dreams about her, and all of them end with us kissing for an extended period of time. This needs to be the same.

I looked to my side, looked right at her and just as I found a moment, kissed her right on her lips. She pulled away, and angrily started at me trying to fathom the suddeness of the move. I was frightened. The worst had happened. Not that, I without consent kissed someone, but that I clearly did it wrong else as per what I have come to believe, she should have been begging for more by now. That's it. This seals my fate. I'm going to be a horrible kisser and no one would ever kiss me again.

As sudden as the kiss was, a gush of air brings a dried leaf and smacks it right across my face. We both hadn't yet digested the moment that passed, and here I was feeling inadequate and slapped.

The universe slapped you, on my behalf. She said. And started to walk away. I tried saying sorry, but I forgot how to speak. I just looked at her go, still trying to make sense of the series of events that transpired.

I did later see her, become even better friends and we did date for a while.

The leaf slapping me across the face as I pondered the feelings of excitement, ineptitude, guilt, shame and self loathing brought me back to reality. Like all things in life, this must be learnt. And failures must be dealt with, with confidence.  Oh, and that you never go tongue first, with both of lips over theirs so that it feels like their face is being sucked on my a leech.