Originally Cont’d From Love’s First Kiss) 12-2-09
What was it like to be a pre-teen, meeting a person who’d, maybe one day, be the Love of your Life? And what did you do when someone turned down the lights in the cellar party . . . and you were alone . . . finally. Your hands touched, and your eyes melted while looking at the other’s face, their smile, their warm and inviting eyes.
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Geraldine McFadden and I Kissed.
Very shyly. We said a few words, none of which I remember now. I tried to make her laugh. She did! And oh, how my heart filled up. {She likes me, at least a little, I thought.}
I don’t know who moved closer to the other. Maybe it was mutual. But soon we were looking at each other from eye to eye — more intently — wanting to take in and remember the magic of the moment. I closed my eyes involuntarily. (Was this a reflex move or an action I carried over from a previous life?) I moved my head closer. So did she. We kissed a second time, but this time with a lot more feeling, a lot more… love. Puppy Love.
“Do you know how to ‘French’ kiss,”
She asked, almost in a Whisper.
“I’m not sure,” I lied, not wanting to show my lack of manly knowledge. I mean, c’mon. You had an image to keep up, even at age 12, going on 13 (actually, turning 13 in a few short weeks back then).
Geraldine explained the technique to me. And we experimented. What an eye-opener! Well, lip-opener really. “Just open a little,” she softly said to me, and I complied. What she didn’t tell me, and what I learned by “word of mouth” was what to do with that small appendage that often got me into trouble from wagging it too much: my tongue.
I swear I did not know what she was doing. I had opened my lips and felt a soft, almost liquid push against first the bottom and then the top lip. Exciting can’t describe that first feeling. Try electrifying. Another person, a gorgeous girl who I just met and fell head over heels in love with, had extended the softest part of her body to me in an exchange of trust, love, and . . . wait a minute! This ain’t kids’ stuff I’m dealing with here.
This is the real thing, this could be the start of S E X.
I don’t like to admit it, I don’t think most guys would, but up until that moment in life, I never thought of a real-life girl as a potential mate. Oh, I liked girls. But in a shy, bashful way. I liked being with them, liked seeing them smile in my direction, and liked to hear them laugh.
But what do you do with them once you get to first base? I felt I had never been up to bat, and here I am, already being walked by a pitcher who is giving me a “pass” to try for second! I’ll never forget that kiss. My tongue darted out and made contact with Geraldine’s lips and then . . . we . . . “Soul Kissed.”
Soul Kiss experienced in Adolescence
God, I have not thought of that term in ages. Soul Kiss. That is so “right“ for a description. Particularly, when applied to two novices, two youngsters exploring, making their way through adolescence with the help of, and through the trust of, each other.
I cherish that kiss even now as one of the highlights of my life. But there were two other major episodes that occurred the weekend I met Geraldine McFadden. Each competes for the fondest memory of my life. And all occurred on one fabulous weekend. Come visit some more, have a little red wine, and I’ll tell you about them. But not today. Let me soak in the warmth of this moment a little while longer.
Contoveros 