I was way pass the age that a ‘normal girl’ should have had their first kiss. This is what I had convinced myself anyway.
In my twisted reality my friends were having sensuous make out sessions. With boys that were movie-screen beautiful.
Then, there was me, eager to lose my lip-ginity. I didn’t want to be the odd one out but at the same time, I also didn’t want to jump right into the first kiss because I wanted mine to be special, I wanted it to be the Disney kind of magical.
I even had it all planned out, scented candles would light up the room to make for a romantic ambience. I would look enticing in the soft glow of candle light. He would stroke the side of my face lovingly, before running his fingers through my wild mane of curly hair. He would comment about how soft my hair was and how it smelt like strawberries.
Perhaps there would even be rose petals scattered across the floor. If luck was on my side, rain would tap gently against the glass as soft jazz filled the air between us.
‘You’re beautiful’ he would murmur in my ear, making sure that his lips made contact with my skin in the process.
No! He’d be twice as romantic as that!
‘I’ve never seen truer beauty until this night’
That what he would whisper in my ear as the rain continued to thud against the window. It would be just like Romeo and Juliet, without the tragedy of course.
Then, then his lips would touch mine and it would be amazing. We’d kiss to the melodic sounds of the saxophone and what’s more? We’d fall in love.
Then we’d retell our fairy-tale to our grandchildren. They’d look at us in awe, in the hope that they to could have love as brilliant as ours.
An animalistic noise left my mouth as I rolled my eyes and slammed my diary shut. I felt sick reading the pathetically idyllic, painfully unrealistic fantasy of a 13-year-old child.
What was even more bile inducing is that fact I was forced to remember my actual first kiss.
Oh my Lord and all his angels too! Nico was a beauty. To put it crudely was every girl’s wet dream and of course I wasn’t exempt.
It was the night of Tara Neasden’s party, it was to celebrate the end of exams. The music was booming, snacks and alcohol were flowing. I was feeling good. LIFE. WAS. GOOD.
Life got a whole letter better when Nico began to dance with me. He was bold, taking charge by placing his hands firmly on my newly aquired hips. We slow grinded to every song, I’m not sure how we made that work but we did.
One hand left my hip to sweep the hair out of my eyes. I could have died! (It was just like I had wrote it!)
His face was leaning toward mine, eyes closed and lips ready for action. As soon as his lips landed on mine, his tongue sprung into action. I felt as though I was receiving a dental examination, no! Even worse I felt as though he was trying to find out what I had had for a lunch. A week ago!
I tried to pull way but he just tightened his grip on my and kissed harder!
As if things couldn’t get any worse he bit my lip so hard, I let out this weird little yelp. Now all I could pray for was the torture to be over.
This is not how I imagined it would be, even with the most realistic fantasy.
Nico, wasn’t ‘Nico’ anymore he was just a 16 year old boy with an over zealous tongue, great hair and dimples.
I left the party disappointed, wondering if these were the kisses my friends were raving about.
Surely they couldn’t be.
Luckily for me, I soon found that my ‘Nico experience’ was just an anomaly.