I'm doing 30 things
It was a pretty cold winter day, by California standards. The two of us met up early in the morning, when it was still dark outside. We ended up walking a fair deal until we reached a park that I used to play at when I was younger, and lived in the area. My hands tend to get cold pretty easily, so I was wearing gloves. Of course my girl, delightfully mischievous as she is, stole said gloves at the first opportunity. I recall being forced to roll around on the frost-covered grass before she’d give them back. I got her back, though! I swiped her purple woolen scarf and started to demand a ransom. She cut me off mid-sentence with my first ever kiss. It was warm and soft and totally unexpected and left me speechless.
I generally have a good memory, but that day is practically engraved in my mind. To be honest, while the kiss itself was nice and all, what really made it special was sharing it with that particular girl. I loved her then, and I love her still. Unfortunately, she’s dropping out of my life – we’ll be going to universities on opposite sides of the country come fall – but we enjoyed ourselves immensely in the time we had together. No room for regrets.
To the other teenagers here: My first kiss happened about a month or so after my 18th birthday. I’m a romantic at heart, so it wouldn’t have meant anything to me without the relationship I had at the time. You may want to take that into consideration. Of course, your mileage may vary. Just don’t get hung up about it, one way or the other. Kissing – and love – is meant to be fun.
