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Innocence, 17

I had felt for a long time that, although as a girl I've dreamed and wondered about a kiss for a long time (dreaming of a prince charming or a shining knight from a storybook), that in the act of a first kiss, something precious would be lost. I felt that some sense of innocence would fall away and I would never be able to go back. I have received many warnings from people, most saying to wait to kiss someone until you feel sure that they are, or are at least the type, of person you are going to marry.

It's the summer after my junior year of highschool. This moment was only two weeks ago. You see our relationship started off with a little drama, each of us with someone else in relationships wasn't really going anywhere. We had an instant connection, couldn't stop talking, seemed utterly fascinated by each other. I can't begin to express how wonderful he is, how accepting of the darkness in my nature, of my past, or how his eyes light up when he smiles. I can't begin to express the sense of finality that is here, despite our youth, each of us seventeen. We both believe, maybe just feel, that God intended this, put this love into being, made us for this purpose, to be together.

And we were standing by the river, under a metal roof by a picnic table. I asked him why it was he always took his glasses off around me. He looked cute in them. He replied it was easier to do things like this---reached out and pulled my chin up gently and kissed me. It wasn't what I expected from watching movies, and I didn't open my mouth. I just froze. It reminded me then of a fish, because he kissed me straight on without turning his head and the way I imagined. His lips looked then reminded me of that fish face you make when you press your cheeks in with your hands. I felt lightheaded, dizzy, felt my face flush deeply.

I remembered looking up at him once, he was smiling, almost a smirk that said, you look so cute when you're embarrassed. I felt ashamed, maybe guilty, I didn't understand what to do. And it hadn't even been two months. I felt like I'd lost something. As time passed and I had time to think, I realized I hadn't lost anything. I knew exactly where it was. It rested on the lips of the man I loved. And he wasn't going anywhere. Another try, and I still couldn't move. A third a while later and I kissed him back. Then I kissed him.

He told me once that my kiss was different. I asked if that was bad. He replied that it wasn't bad, he just thought maybe it was different because I was the first girl he had kissed who loved him back. And that's the story. Well, once piece of it. It continues to this day...and hopefully, God willing, it will continue until the day I die.

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