Tuesday, March 17, 2009


A friend was commiserating about her lack of social skills and it reminded me of a story of my first almost-kiss. I hope it will help my friend to realize she is not alone. This isn't even my best story of how it is SHOCKING that I have a fiancee.

When I was 16, I started in on the dating field. I'd had my first almost-boyfriend at 13, but stayed away from having crushes on guys who would give me the time of day until I was 16.

I started dating "The First of Many Ryans" that spring before I turned 17. He was tall and thus all my friends, and myself included, assumed we were perfect for each other. He was the king of the losers. His friends were all weird and mildly creepy, but he was a nice guy. And, even better, he liked me too. This was assured by one friend who heard him talking to another guy in the library when she was spying on them from the other side of the stacks.

We started hanging out as one big group. He and I were surreptitiously left alone on occasion, but only if we could be watched by my friends without him noticing. To be fair, we needed the recon information to ponder over and gossip about later.

We started dating at the beginning of April. This "dating" was made up of watching "The Chipmunk's Adventure" and a weird Anime (sp?) movie that he brought. Obviously, we were meant to be. (Ha!) This went on for 6 days. Then my family went away for the Easter weekend.

We got together shortly after my family's return. He came over, we watched TV and we held hands. Finally, it was time for him to go home. I walked him up stairs to the door. He stopped on the front deck and turned. My mind turned to mush. And panic.

He leaned down towards me. Moments stretched. I could see him lean in toward my mouth. My brain went haywire. "He's going to kiss me!!! He's going to kiss me!!! What do I do? What do I do????" And then...

His nose bumped mine. I pulled back and put my head down. He kept leaning in, his nose pressed to mine, squishing it flat. He kept leaning for my mouth. I kept backing up and putting my head down. Finally, I made it to the door and shut it in panic.

I was mortified. Then and there I decided to break up with him just to never have to face the awkwardness of that moment. I wrote him a note during French class and shoved it in his locker. It took him two days to find the note. I never spoke to him again.

1 comment:

Crap monkies say "what?"