642 Tiny Things To Write About: Your First Kiss

I didn’t write yesterday–the first part of the day was spent getting the remaining items of my sister’s move sorted out and I spent the later part of the day binge watching Forensic Files, trying to wind down from the craziness of the past month.  I’m of not particularly excited about writing today, I’m fighting some sort of cold/flu, but I don’t want to start skipping too many days and end up not completing this activity.  I’m the queen of strong starts but many unfinished melodies.

Today’s assignment is: Describe your first kiss

Which instantly brings this to mind:

(Sorry Cher, Betty Everett recorded the best version of the Shoop, Shoop song)

I feel terrible about this, but sincere apologies go out to my first real boyfriend, because I don’t remember a damn thing about our first kiss.  I don’t even remember where or when it happened, no less how I felt.   And it wasn’t like he was a terrible kisser either.  It’s just that it would probably take some serious hypnosis to bring out the details of that event from deep in my memory.

Now my husband is a different deal all together.   It was our first date on June 25th, and it was at club on 14th street in New York City called the Cat Club.   We were on the couch in the back of the club to the right of the bar.  And it was wonderful.

My husband and I met working for Mercedes-Benz of NA.  I was working as a processing clerk in the warranty department and he was a contract worker for the same department.  Our first interaction was an argument at the copy machine about whether John Cougar Mellencamp would be a good choice for playing Jim Morrison in Oliver Stone’s adaptation of  No One Here Gets Out Alive.  (For the record, I thought that was a bad casting call).  He asked me to join him on a few group outings, and I deferred because I was pretty much living paycheck to paycheck due to a recent trip to England and student loan payments.  I was determinedly single at the time as well, and pretty clueless that he a) was attracted to me and b) was actually asking me out.

It took the offer of an all paid event to see his friend’s band in the city to get me to say yes.  He told me afterwards it was the last time he was going to ask me, because he was moving to California soon and would assume I wasn’t interested in him.   When we got to club with his brother and his brother’s friend, my husband and I grabbed our comped drinks and headed to the back of the club to sit until the band started.  A few songs in, my husband made his move and proved that Betty Everett was absolutely correct.

And as the old saying goes, the rest was history.




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