Tuesday, July 27, 2004


These are in response to the questions Regina posted in her diary. Most of you have already joined the fun and replied, and I wanted to join the secrets game, so here goes:

1. Describe your first kiss
I normally do my very best to steer clear of these questions. Whenever a group conversation starts to veer in this direction, the recalling of first kisses, and first sexual encounters, I usually slip out of the room, go somewhere else, escape at all costs. It is always a little embarrassing to have to say that your first real kiss was not until you were 18. It is even more embarrassing to have to admit this when everyone else has these dramatic stories of first kisses from when they were twelve that they can still remember details about. I cannot recall for sure who my first real kiss was with, although I am pretty sure, but even my inability to be sure about this seems odd in these story trading sessions where first kisses mean so much and I cannot even recall for sure my first kiss.

Invariably, I also feel like my life is lacking in these situations, that I missed out on a huge part of the American teen experience. All my awkwardness from those adolescent years of my life are recalled in these conversations and I cannot but help think that I am a poser now, that that insecure loser is my real identity and all these attempts to be sexually active, to look somewhat hip, that all of this is a bad paint job, too obvious to anyone that looks closely. And that is why I run when these conversations start up; I run from that old image of myself that would represent itself. But enough running – this is far easier in this mechanical medium than if I were to tell you this face to face, and this allows me practice. To tell difficult or embarrassing stories, you need to have a good narrative that you are comfortable with, and the writing of this will help to fashion these narratives, so that next time this conversation rears its end, I will not have to run, but can instead have a narrative filled with enough self-deprecating jokes that I can be comfortable enough to participate in this conversation. My first kiss (I am pretty sure) occurred when I was eighteen within my first couple weeks of arriving at New College, maybe even first week. It is that time when you are hanging out with just about anybody because everyone is fresh and no one knows anyone. Groups had yet to cement themselves. You had yet to realize what a total creep the person you made out with your first week was. You will gag about this and be teased about this for probably the rest of the time you spend at college. Paris, Michael Jones, and I had been wandering around Ham Center in the late, late night when no one else was in there. Eventually the three of us ended up sitting on the pool table full of sexual tension, and Paris and Michael started talking about a threesome, looking at me, the virgin, devilishly.

Somehow (was this under Paris’s encouragement), Michael and I, started frenching. It was mildly thrilling, more in line with the rebellious pleasure of smoking a cigarette for the first time than any sort of sexual thrill. Simply, it felt adult. I am pretty sure Michael corrected me and then we frenched some more. Then we sat around some more and talked until the three of us separated. A totally uneventful, non-thrilling first kiss too late in life with someone that I later could not stand to be anywhere near. At that point, it was just something that needed to happen, to get it over with, much like my first time having sex, which occurred the next week with another embarrassing boy.

2. What was the best kiss of your life?
Now this question is also a little hard, which is probably due to the fact that most of the times I have made out with people, I have been pretty drunk and so the event itself has been a blur, let alone the details of the actual kiss. It was after Cody’s Puppet Parade, which both of us had been in. Andrew Hossack and I, after a long period of time of not having any sexual involvement, ended up walking back toward the Dort dorms together with the intention of hooking up, and I remember before we made it up the stairs to his third floor dorm that we stopped at the bottom of the stairwell and made out for a long time. It was hot for so many reasons. One, that it was a brazen PDA and that there was a lack of care for anyone or anything besides our own pleasure. Two, that this was just kissing, a time to enjoy its possibilities, when once the stairs were ascended, other things would be involved. Three, that it was someone I had had sex with before and enjoyed but who I had not touched in months, although I had seen him many times, and looked longingly. And four, Andrew is just a really good kisser. Gentle, precise, and he knows where to kiss your neck. We are about the same height and so that also made it really pleasant.

3. What was the worst kiss of your life?
It was in Madison, WI, two summers ago. Bonnie and I had met up with this old man, Babaluma was his screen name, that Bonnie had met through Livejournal. We met up with him because I think we thought he seemed cool. He bought us lots of beer and we talked through the night, then after lots of nice beer bought courtesy of him, we left, the three of us, to walk back in the direction of our houses. We got to his first and said good-byes, and before I knew what was what, he was frenching me good-bye, this balding man who was at least thirty and who I did not find even remotely attractive. I felt so gross, and was so repulsed, but felt that I had to at least be somewhat civil since he bought me so much beer. I broke off the kiss, said bye, and ran off with Bonnie, who witnessed the whole thing, which made it even more embarrassing. He was not a good kisser. There was too much tongue. His lips were wrong, warm, wet, gross. Ish ish ish.

4. What kiss was your most "movie moment" kiss?
Also two summers ago in Madison, WI. Bonnie, some PIRGers, and I had been at the Rainbow Room. There was this boy, this really cute boy, who had been making out with people at the bar all night. I had watched him all night, envious of all these other people that got to kiss him. I was about to leave with the PIRGers when I saw him out front of the bar smoking. I ran up to him and told him I thought he was really cute and that I wanted to make out with him. And I made out with this gorgeous boy, Giancarlo, for a while and he was a little shocked by my forthrightness, giggled, and asked me if I wanted to come home with him. We made out the three blocks to his house, stopping along the way to make out in lots of people’s yards. It was rough kissing, eager for something else.

5. What kiss/es do you most regret?
See the answer to #2, and add to that list any boys that have kissed me while I have been to drunk to resist, even though I was not attracted to them, and they were awful kissers. There are way too many gay bar incidents like this to describe here. They are basically all the same though: I am wasted and soon some ugly asshole latches himself on to me and starts to make out with me, and I try to end it as abruptly as possible.

6. Which kiss was the most memorable?
My most recent kiss is the most memorable simply because it is the clearest in my memory. I had left the Metropolitan with Christopher a few weeks ago. He wanted me to come home with him. I said no, and made him settle for a kiss. He refused and stormed off towards his house, only to come trotting back and we ran into a kiss and I pressed him against the wall of the Stay Gold gallery on Grand Street and frenched him for a good while before breaking it off (perhaps just to exercise power, to have someone continue to want something from me, the feeling of pleasure which that gives) and heading home, leaving him to have to go home alone.

7. Who have you always fantasized about kissing?
God, who haven’t I fantasized about kissing? Really, if they have brown hair, are rail thin, wear tight jeans and have nice long, fingers than chances are more than likely that I have thought about making out with them. Current people who meet these criterion: Christopher, Jonathan, Benjamin, Josh, etc.

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