Waaay back in October of 2007, I wrote the first post for this blog — The Kiss. This image gave me a big ol’ goofy grin, and I knew I would have to write about that first kiss. Not that first, chaste, grade school peck, but the doozy.
My very first kiss was Carlos. Yeah. I know. Carlos sounds like he ought to be in a Stephanie Plum novel. Oh, wait. He is! But this was the fourth grade, and my Carlos was not Carlos Manoso, aka Ranger, from the wonderfully wacky imagination of Janet Evanovich, though he did have that lovely mocha-colored skin. Still, it was the first peck of love.
But, the first doozy kiss. Well, that was Bobby. Fast forward to high school. I was 14 and Bobby was 17. He was blond and southern, with sun-kissed skin. Sigh. At 17, he was already well over six feet of lean muscle, with long arms and long feet. He was my first real kiss and my first real boyfriend. He was gorgeous and attentive and sadly, in the way of fourteen-year-old girls, I didn’t treat him very well. But, I’ll always remember him. That first real kiss, it was a doozy. So was Bobby. Thank you, Bobby.
So, who was your first real doozy kiss?