30 Day Writing Challenge: Your First Love and First Kiss

I'm not one to kiss and tell, but if my journal is any indication, I am one to kiss and write. Some kisses have been memorable, not for the kiss itself, but for the circumstances in which they took place. It's hard to forget turning around from a goodnight kiss to see your dad standing on the staircase in his underwear. Some kisses have been forgettable, and others I wish I could forget.

My stories are far from scandalous. Truth be told, I can count the number of boys I've kissed on one hand. I was never the type to kiss for fun, or engage in a non-committal-make-out or "NCMO" as they called it in those days. Granted, there were plenty of boys I would have gladly taken up on the offer, but I was never the prettiest, most popular, or voluptuous beauty. I used to be bitter about my lack of opportunities, so to speak, but my kisses were always connected to commitment. Now, the adult-me is pretty stoked that young, single-me reserved the smooches for a select few. It's awkward enough running into an ex at Costco, but at least I don't have to risk running into a rando that I "made out with that one time". Ugh. That gives me anxiety just thinking about it.

If you want scandal, here it is: my first kiss wasn't even my first kiss. I'd kissed a boy on the playground in second grade while playing Power Rangers, and I'd kissed a boy a few times when I was 14 but it was strange and unsolicited and I decided to ignore that it ever happened. What I consider my first kiss at 16 was, in fact, closer to my 4th or 5th kiss. Scandal! Shock! Outrage! I know. I know.

I was lucky enough to have two first kisses with my husband. How many people can say that? Our first kiss ever was on New Year's Eve. Ryan Seacrest counting down, sparkling cider in hand. He was wearing a white O'Neill t-shirt and he smelled like Acqua Di Gio. I knew it was coming, I had tried to mentally prepare, but I was too excited to focus. I literally lost my balance when he leaned in for the kiss, and maybe it was because I hadn't been kissed in a very, very long time, but dang! It was like a movie kiss! Well, at least it was in my head. I couldn't sleep that night, staying up, giggling with my best friend about boys. My whole life had changed in that moment.

Flash forward almost four years. A couple days after returning home from my mission, we were watching Toy Story 3. It was really romantic, I know, but somewhere before crying over the potential death of fictional cartoon toys, he leaned in for a kiss. I think I was more nervous this time around than I had been four years earlier. I hadn't seen him in close to two years! What if we weren't compatible? What if we didn't like each other anymore? What if there wasn't a spark?

Clearly, that wasn't an issue. He proposed six days later, we were married five months later, and now we live happily ever after. We keep mistletoe up in our house year round, mostly because we're lazy, but also because it reminds us to lock lips like we're young again. Sadly, I won't grant anyone else access to my husband, at least not until eternity ends, but trust me when I say... I'm one lucky gal.