I heard once that you could ask someone to kiss you. I was 18 and I had no moves. I was still in high school. I always thought that one day a guy would discreetly ask me to take a walk with him, he would lead me off to somewhere remote where we could have privacy and proceed to give me the best first kiss a girl could ever ask for. Unlike other friends of mine, I didn’t think that you needed to be in a relationship for someone to kiss you. Like the movies had always implied, I thought that one day I would have a kiss and the boy, the boy of my dreams, would follow. I waited through all of high school and I got tired of waiting. My desire for sexual activity and my actual experience were in stark contrast to one another and finally at the end of my high school career I started taking matters into my own hands.
I was interested in a boy, but for all the wrong reasons. Society had led me to believe that if I hadn’t at least kissed a boy by the time I went to college it would be written all over my face and that I would be lame and nobody would want to be friends with me, or something just as melodramatic and life shattering. So I was determined, and when I’m determined there’s definitely no stopping me.
This boy happened to be a twin brother of a friend of mine. He was nice and sometimes he would give me massages and they made me tingle deep down. I didn’t otherwise have feelings for him but I thought that he might be interested in me. I am no stranger to rejection but I arrogantly thought that he would not deny me, a girl who was definitely out of his league.
So on the day that was supposed to be the end of the world in the most horribly contrived manner, I asked. To say the kiss was a mess is an understatement so I’ll spare you the unfortunate details.
The sheer glee I felt afterwards goes without saying. I was ecstatic and couldn’t wait to tell the world about my first kiss. Not about how great it was but that I, eighteen years old and about to graduate high school was finally worthy enough to be bestowed with a kiss by a boy. But I was about two years too late. Though my friends were just as excited for me, I soon felt that my excitement for the occasion was undue. I was older than everyone was when they were first kissed. People were having sex for the first time, this was news now and my petty story about a kiss that wasn’t even pleasurable was definitely not newsworthy.
When I got to college, I sought to exchange this lonely and measly tale for a more enticing story. Not that it wasn’t fun to go around kissing a new boy every weekend but the excitement soon wore off. It wasn’t until I made older friends that I realized how insignificant a detail it would have been to have plopped onto campus that first day without ever having kissed anyone. Looking back I regret how deluded I was and how I had taken advantage of friendships in order to remedy my “situation.” I suppose it just goes to show how being an asshole is equally distributed among all people, regardless of the gender you identify with.
I believe I have since grown and gained a more balanced perspective of what my priorities are and should be and by extension, don’t pursue men in such a superficial way. But the one thing that truly helped me grow is that a boy, or a man, does not have to give me a kiss. My first instinct was to say that I had never been kissed. This language implies that as a woman it is not within my power to initiate intimacy with someone, which I know now is false. Going through this process of finding a suitor worthy of kissing, I realized that males are not inherently more confident than woman. Why must I wait around for the “honor” of being kissed by someone? Though my intentions were certainly not pure, all of the positive feedback I got when I told people that I had asked and initiated the experience rather than the reverse, definitely helped shape my attitude about strong women who make moves and don’t wait around on men.
Author: Haya BeSeret
H.B. is a first time contributor that wishes to remain anonymous.