Kiss Me?

I am a terrible first kisser. Once I get comfortable with someone, I can at least fool that person into believing I'm good at physical affection (Stockholm Syndrome is what's up). Initially, though, there's no denying it - I am a terrible, terrible first kisser.

Everyone remembers their first kiss. If you're lucky, you can romanticize it. My friend Kasey was so excited when she got her first kiss that she told her mother. She called it "magical." It was a great time for her, and I am still slightly bitter that she gave me those expectations for my first kiss, which would occur two years after hers. (I have always been a late bloomer, but this was especially true when I spent all my time watching Lost and running a fan-forum for the show. Some people would view this as a time-sink. I don't at all; it was definitely a better use of time than working my way toward what was always going to be a terrible first kiss.)

I've told the story of my first kiss several times, and it always receives a positive reaction. I'll do it again here, but first I need to make a disclaimer:

My first boyfriend was not a terrible person. He wasn't really even a terrible kisser. Still, when you combine a terrible kisser and an adequate one, you don't exactly achieve movie magic. And if you do, please don't tell me about it. It would really lower my self-confidence. 

I had been friends with my first boyfriend for a year or so before we started dating. We said the premature "I love yous" and he even asked me about marriage at some point. (He said, "What do you think about marriage?" while holding my hand. I ripped my hand away and stammered, "It's--it's a thing people do!" Clearly you envy my charisma.)  We were dating for a month before he made a move, and I still cringe when I think about it.

I remember everything about this moment. I was wearing a brown plaid dress and beige sandals. He wore a red shirt and gray track pants. We sat on the edge of his bed, his arm awkwardly draped around my shoulder. He had just closed the door to his room, so I knew something was going to go down. I started preparing myself mentally, telling myself how it was really, really important that I reciprocate if he tried to kiss me.  

He leaned over. He kissed me. And I, being the charismatic person I am, sat there with my lips sealed shut. It was so bad that I began to suspect that the Go-Go's had a psychic vision and penned "Our Lips Are Sealed" about this moment. What's worse is that he lingered there for an uncomfortably long period of time, expecting me to return his advances and not knowing that I had no intention of doing so. As I said, this kiss was definitely bad because of me. After three minutes of touching his lips to mine, he moved away.

His eyes said it all. It was terrible, and I knew it. "Oh oh it's getting late!" I casually exclaimed. "Gotta go. Love you. Bye!" He looked dumbfounded, as if he were a child and I had just tossed his ice cream cone to the ground. It was like getting food poisoning your first time at a fancy restaurant after seeing everyone else enjoy food at said restaurant. Guys, I gave him emotional food poisoning. 

Let's fast forward to last fall when I kissed Gideon for the first time. I'd like to think I got better at kissing someone for the first time after having had a serious relationship, but that is apparently not the way I do things. My first kiss with Gideon was so bad that I've actually thought about patenting my move. I call it the "Dog going for a slice of pizza." This gif actually really sums it up well. I was going to describe the kiss, but after seeing that gif, I don't think I have to. That is it. I thought I was sly but I was definitely not. 

If you're single and unhappy, just seduce your crush the way this dog steals this slice of pizza. One out of one times it ends in a serious, long-term relationship. 

Screw journalism. I should really be a relationship advice columnist.