<body><script type="text/javascript"> function setAttributeOnload(object, attribute, val) { if(window.addEventListener) { window.addEventListener('load', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }, false); } else { window.attachEvent('onload', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }); } } </script> <div id="navbar-iframe-container"></div> <script type="text/javascript" src="https://apis.google.com/js/plusone.js"></script> <script type="text/javascript"> gapi.load("gapi.iframes:gapi.iframes.style.bubble", function() { if (gapi.iframes && gapi.iframes.getContext) { gapi.iframes.getContext().openChild({ url: 'https://www.blogger.com/navbar.g?targetBlogID\x3d7917459\x26blogName\x3dfirstkissproject\x26publishMode\x3dPUBLISH_MODE_BLOGSPOT\x26navbarType\x3dBLACK\x26layoutType\x3dCLASSIC\x26searchRoot\x3dhttp://firstkissproject.blogspot.com/search\x26blogLocale\x3den_US\x26v\x3d2\x26homepageUrl\x3dhttp://firstkissproject.blogspot.com/\x26vt\x3d4021338945997668753', where: document.getElementById("navbar-iframe-container"), id: "navbar-iframe" }); } }); </script>

« Home | Next » | Next » | Next » | Next » | Next » | Next » | Next » | Next » | Next » | Next »

G.C. Jones, "Go Kiss"

I was eighteen years old, first semester in college and fresh from my Midwestern, all-girls high school. He was an upper-classman who lived two floors above me and looked at me, silently with large eyes that said more than he could in the hallways and elevators of our Big Ten university residence hall. He called. He called me on my dorm room phone. He was coming down to hang out. Cool, I thought. I wanted to hang out with him more, but was nervous as hell. They didn't teach us these things in high school. Sure, I'd thought about kissing him, but... well, I wasn't going to say anything.

He knocked on my door. We hugged, awkwardly and my stomach was churning. There wasn't much to do, so we decided to play cards - my lame idea. I didn't know Spades yet, so Go Fish it was. He would have done almost anything I said. I know that now. We sat on the carpeted dorm floor and placed bets on the game - his idea.
"If you lose, I get to kiss you"

"I'm not going to lose. I never lose," I boasted. I lost. I lost and threw a fit. Was this really about to happen? I was losing my first kiss to a game of Go Fish. You have got to be kidding me, I thought. Alright. I closed my eyes, sat there and let him do all the work.

It was awful - uncomfortable and slimy. He tried to put his tongue in my mouth and I felt violated by a simple kiss. Violation! He decided to leave. I wasn't mad, just confused. It was too much for one night. I called one of my best friends.

"What are you doing up?!"

"Carla, he kissed me."

"Are you crying?" she said. It was funny to her. It is funny. It
wasn't then.

"It wasn't special." I was waiting for that big bang, the sparks, the
fireworks.

"It takes a while." She was right. I felt better after talking to her. My friends were excited for me. My first kiss! Firsts always make me cry. Still do. But I know it's good for me. It only gets better from there.

Please keep entries to 500 words or fewer when possible. Your email address, and any other identifying information you choose, will be kept private. By submitting your story, you grant the First Kiss Project copyright and publicity rights. If you do not wish to grant the First Kiss Project these rights, it is suggested that you do not submit to this website. The First Kiss Project is all about sharing, but please don't steal these stories or use them as your own. Thanks.