Somehow while on gchat today with Georgia, we got onto the subject of first kisses. I mentioned to her that my first kiss was sporting a rattail when we smooched, which she thought was the most wonderful piece of information since we found out the world was not going to explode in the year 2000. And it’s true, he really was. But the boy could have had a mullet (which my current boyfriend once had) or blue hair, I would have adored him still.
I really fell for him when I was nine. Yes, I was one hormonal piece of work already lusting after this new import from Michigan. I don’t know what I imagined would happen with us. Maybe he would sit next to me in class or we would brush elbows during safety patrol duty. That alone really got me going.
It was an epic romance, really. One for the record books. Our lips definitely locked more than once, though we did dabble with others in our intense games of spin the bottle. I guess you could say we were kissing swingers at 11. Then alas, in the seventh grade, he forgot about me and started dating a girl with bigger boobs. I was cast aside for a 12-year-old who did not resemble a boy with long hair, like me. But the passion never died! Well, the memories anyway. Ah, how lucky I was to have that rattailed 11-year-old-charmer.