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Zandra Coult ("Zandra Gave Dan Mono")

I'd been going out with him for about two weeks I think. It was in April of '06. I was in seventh grade, and he was in eighth. We went to go see a movie. My mom dropped me off, and he walked in with two of his friends (who were also in eighth grade). We all had gotten there like 30 minutes before the movies was supposed to start.

I tried to get to know his two other friends. I sat on Dan's left, and his friends on his right. When we were trying to pick a place to sit his friends said to me:

"Do you want us to sit a couple rows away so we don't get in the way?"

I had absolutely NO clue what to say. Dusty told them to shut up.

Dusty and I had discussed kissing before this date at the movies we decided to kiss at the movies, and I knew that it would be his first kiss. But I told him I had already had a first kiss. I hadn't. I regret lying now, but at the time I did it to seem 'cool'
in front of my older boyfriend.

The movie started. We held hands for the first 15 or 20 minutes. Then the friend of his sitting closest to him nudged him.
He let go of my hand. My stomach was doing flip-flops. He put his arm around me and I knew what was going to happen.

I looked over at him, and he looked deep into my eyes. My head was practically on his shoulder. I tilted my face toward his, and he bent down and kissed me. It was an opened mouth kiss so I slipped my tongue into his mouth. He was shocked that this happened. He then pushed his tongue around in my mouth too. I could feel the stares of his friends piercing the two of us.

I pulled away, and he understood. This happened a few times during the course of the movie.

After the date, after the rest of the weekend had passed I went to school. He was there too. (Obviously) When I was walking to a class one of his friends shouted:

"ZANDRA GAVE DAN MONO"

I told them I had no clue what they were talking about... they explained loudly that when I frenched him I gave him mono.
I told them to F**K OFF. Before I knew it the ENTIRE SCHOOL was shouting "MONO" when I walked past any of them.

It sucked. And Dan broke up with me a week after because of the whole thing. But life went on... and I got over it.

Elements of Life, Anonymous

I was almost 18 and the partying, drinking, and guys had soon clouded my mind.

That night put us all in a zone, losing all common sense...one second I was stepping up to him and asking for a dance and another second I was tangled in his arms, his breath hot on my neck. I've dirty danced before but this time...woah...he'd whisper in my ear phrases like "Just lead my hands" or "Wherever you wanna go." I told him I don't do this and he reassured me that I should do whatever I was comfortable with. An hour passed and I was about to step out the door. "You can't leave me like this" he said, and ran off to my best friend successfully convincing her to stay the night.

My body was aching, my head was spinning and all I needed was some water and a chance to sit down. He followed me to the darkened area of the room. It started off well talking about sports, school and all. All was good until I stopped talking, and his lips had a chance to occupy my neck...I froze. His lips soon captured mine, and stayed still. 'What the hell' i thought and went for it. I pulled away, I always pulled away...never the one to start it up again, just once I had had the nerve to turn his face toward me. It wasn't gentle, it wasn't sweet and it sure as h*ll wasn't dry...haha kinda slobbery...it wasn't at all how I imagined it'd be.

Part of me believes that it meant nothing to the both of us but just an excuse to have some fun. I don't know and probably never will know what it meant for him and to some extent I'm okay with that. It was about a month ago yet it seems like it never happened and looking back at it now, I finaly realise that my actions were nothing but the actions of my curiousity.

R. Light

(my first kiss) and then some

I didn't date much in high school, and the few times I did no decent girl deigned to kiss me.

In my last semester of high school, when my eyes scanned the horizon for the vast expanse of possible new experience and testosterone took control of my brain, my trigger finger got itchy. I was a product of L.A. and fully aware of the promise of the lurid mid-sixties youth culture spilling over into the streets. I longed for something more than the neat nip-and-tuck of my adolescent life.

Her name was Maida. Maida was 21 years old, a real nice lady who had a beehivehairdo and a killer body squeezed into paisley print pants. Unfortunately for her, she had gotten herself in well, a family way, and had left her family back East to spend some time with her aunt in L. A. She had come west to have her baby and deal with the requirements of putting it up for adoption. By all appearances,
Maida felt constrained in her new surroundings.

Maida's aunt was one of my mother's best friends. One evening my mother and Maida's aunt went out, and Maida and I were left to our own devices as we remained behind lounging at her aunt's home. She already had had her baby, and I have no idea why she hadn't already returned home. I don't imagine I embodied any great fantasy for her, but I wasn't bad looking and I did dress rather spiffy. And probably most important, there I was, sharing the immediacy of that forlorn time and space.

I recall lunging toward Maida (and she for me), saying something about being desperate for physical attention. I'm not sure that much has changed to this day! We had a wonderful passionate kiss, and I groped mightily at Maida's physique. I seem to recall my mother and her aunt returning home, and my hand dropping away quickly as I grabbed Maida's blouse back to its proper position around her waist.

Oh, what a delight while it lasted!

Maida and I saw each other with romantic intent one more time. We took a long drive and we made out, and I fondled her gorgeous breasts for every inch of excitement they were worth.

I always will recall Maida as being a loving and lovely lady, and I couldn't have asked for a better first kiss or a better encounter with an "older" woman.

Annabel Lee Got Nothin On Me, Ms. Kayla L. Lucas

I was a late bloomer, I guess. The nerdy little lass who kept to herself all the way through middle school. And then, sixteen years old hit me like the worn end of an angry, old man’s walking stick. Breasts, amazing complexion, deep brown hair, and to-die-for hazel eyes. And that's when I put away my glasses, hid my Hemingway, and started using what God had suddenly given me.

I discovered almost immediately that, while boys may not understand Wordsworth, I certainly understood their Longfellow. Boys began to intrigue me far more than Keats. After all, the men I read about were dead, and even though Lord Byron's tales could make any little lady squeal with delight, only live men had the power to take that little lady squeal to an entirely new level. Frost, Poe, Eliot... they all touched my brain with such passion. But none had the ability to touch me, well, there.

And that's when I met Michael. Smart, blonde, blue-eyed. A Californian. And better yet, a poet. Instantly, we connected. He and I became best friends, the Sylvia and Ted of our time. We would sit in my truck for hours, reciting, creating, exploring. Poetry, I mean. Until that one time, the one time I leaned forward and, with all the might a Southern woman-to-be could muster, I laid one on him so hard and explosive, he might have had to adjust his pants.

It was in that moment in which I figured out that you don’t have to give up Shakespeare to give a man the shakes. A pair need only learn how to make poetry with their mouths

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