When Gilda Evans asked if I would like to write a guest post, I laughed. What subject could a forty-four year old single man that has been through many failed relationships write on that might interest the readers of “Girl Talk with Gilda Evans”? After hours of deliberation, I decided on the one topic that seems to pop to the surface time and again amongst circles of women everywhere. I shrugged off every ounce of macho dignity that might hinder me, dug deep into the long-term memory banks of my mind, and wrote uninhibitedly about my first “real” kiss.
We were in the sixth grade at the time and had already worked together in more than one class project. She had also come to my house a month previous to a small birthday party my parents held for me. Now, she was the one having a birthday. My dad dropped me off early that morning at her house. I was the first guest to arrive. However, another twenty-two kids showed up soon after and the festivities kicked off. Since there were so many of us, the grown-ups said that we must play outside.
We played countless rounds of king of the castle, traffic signals, Simon says, and other enduring classics. It was probably the sixth round of hide-and-seek when all of the girls went missing. It is likely that most of us guys would not have noticed right away had it not been for the repetitive and quite annoying, “Wait a minute! Wait! Hey, wait!” of one particularly astute boy. When he finally got the attention of the remainder of the group, he pointed out that the birthday girl had not yet been located. It seems it was no time at all before the rest of us pieced together that, in fact, there was not a girl in sight.
We grinned at each other as we realized we’d been duped. The girls had broken the rules and went inside while the boys were busy looking for a good hiding place. To this day, I am still baffled how a dozen giggling girls slipped out of sight and then sneaked past the adults who were preparing lunch inside.
What happened next resembled a whirlwind. A shout from inside, “Ten minutes until lunch,” was followed by the same dozen giggling girls running out from the back door of the house. One of them, of course, was the birthday girl. She tightly grabbed my arm and ran, with me in tow, towards a narrow trail in a wooded area nearby.
I occasionally glanced back as we ran, expecting to see others chasing us. There was nobody. In less than two minutes, we were alone in a small clearing in the woods. We paused for a moment to catch our breath, both of us smiling the entire time. Then, she slightly loosened her grip on my arm. I was amused because I thought she had brought me to the woods to conspire against the rest of the kids.
As I began to speak, she placed a single finger on my lips to silence me. “You can’t tell anybody,” she said. I nodded my head in agreement. She then placed my left hand on her right hip and sternly told me not to move. I didn’t dare.
“I want you to kiss me,” she said. I blushed. I am quite certain of this because I recall a warm sensation all over my entire body, even the tips of my ears. I also began to hear my own heartbeat and the palms of my hands started to perspire.
Seconds later, she grabbed my right hand and placed it directly on top of her heart. Although I was still nervous, I was slightly comforted by the realization that she had frightened herself as well. Apparently, dragging boys into the woods for a kiss was not one of her usual party games; I was obviously special. I smiled sheepishly and then we leaned towards each other in unison. As our lips met, my fears quickly diminished and everything seemed right with the world. Our first kiss lasted about ten seconds. Emotionally, we both grew much older that day.
About the Author
Earl Chinnici launched EarlsHelpDesk.com in the early part of 2008 as an extension of his home-based computer repair shop. In 2011, in response to a subtle suggestion of a friend, he started to overcome severe addiction to tobacco cigarettes gradually. He also began to author his first book, “Maybe You Should Move Those Away From You.”
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Guest posts are the opinion of that author and do not necessarily reflect the opinion of Gilda Evans or others posted here.