Well, well, well, this 30 day challenge is getting awfully personal. That being said here we go. My fist kiss was on my wedding day. I was in the first grade and hopelessly in love with a boy named Shane Thomson or maybe it was Thomas.. or Thompson… or Tomahawk. Well his first name was Shane and his last name started with a T; what is in a name anyways? Isn’t a rose still a rose?
A few days before my wedding, my parents told me that we were moving and that I would not be going to the same school anymore. At six, I thought that meant I’d be leaving that week but of course my parents actually meant for me to finish out the school year and start fresh at a new school the following year in our new zoned district. I attribute a large amount of my introverted “I could give a shit” attitude to the fact that I’ve never attended the same school for more then 2 years my entire childhood. It wasn’t really anyone’s fault, it simply was what it was. I’m a stronger gal for it.
I can remember sitting with my best girlfriend at the time playing clapping hand games during recess. “My parents said were moving. I don’t know how much longer I’ve got.” She was stricken with grief and I was playing up the dramatic heartache of having to say goodbye to my friends. I didn’t know when for sure, but it would be soon no doubt. Why? Oh because they were buying a house and I’d have my own bedroom so it seemed like a fair trade (as though I actually had a say in things).
After a week of goodbyes someone suggested that I finely tell Shane how I feel, maybe we could get married. Oh marrying the love of your life was every little girls dream. Carpe Diam! I told Shane and we were soon engaged (I seem to remember proposing and he shrugged his shoulders. “okay”). Of course this was much to the dismay of Miguel who was probably my first true love. I was too caught up in what others thought though, (damn societal pressures!). Miguel was hurt. I can remember the moment before Shane and I were wed, I looked over at Miguel’s face and a heartbroken sorrow pulsed around him. In that moment I’d wished it was him standing at our blacktop alter. I kissed Shane and was both happy I’d kissed the boy I’d had a crush on for the past few months (who promptly wiped our kiss away btw), but sad I’d hurt one of my best friend.
Things were never the same after I moved. I ran into Miguel years later and while his mom enveloped me into a warm embrace Miguel and I were never friends again. I really attribute this experience to my love for trashy drama television and books with a love triangle. I know the reality is that sometimes the right guy doesn’t get picked. Regret happens folks! Regret happens. Six years old and scared for life. *Throws hand over her face in a stricken Scarlet O’Hara gesture*