It seems it's Embarrassing Moment Day in the blogosphere. Topics have ranged from hurking in underwear to unintentionally sucking down ink, with pit stops for flipping out hats and slurping up frog guts.
How can I top any of that?
Well, I can't. Not really. Though there was this one time I found excruciatingly embarrassing, so I guess I can share that.
Now, I was tall and gawky as a kid, and spent a good deal of time wilting under the teasing barbs of my older brothers and their friends.
"Flatso." (Yup, a perennial favorite.)
Nothing too mean-spirited (and believe me, I could dish it out as well as I could take it), but still. It stung.
Then something magical happened. *cue the sound of trumpets* Puberty.
Seemingly overnight I was hit with a "curves" ball. Oh, not in the Marilyn Monroe league, but suddenly it was apparent I was a girl. Also, I got contact lenses. And boy, did my brothers' friends notice. Which ticked off my brothers no end, but, hey, they deserved it.
One day, *tries to think of a suitable pseudonym* um, Hotney... (Taken from the other part of "hot-rod," which contains his name...are you following this? Pay attention.)
ANYway, Hotney showed up one day when my middle brother (two years my senior, as was Hotney) wasn't home. Which was just fine with Hotney, who said he'd be happy to wait, and did I want to keep him company while he waited?
And he didn't even call me Twiggy.
Well. Be still my heart. My brother's friend, whom half of the high school had a crush on, wanted to be in the same room with me. On purpose!
I got us some Cokes and chips while he settled in front of the TV. As we chatted I couldn't help but notice he was inching closer to me. Ack! My inexperienced little heart was beating out a rhythm like a beatnik on bongos. Was he going to kiss me?
And I had never been kissed before.
(Unless you count the time my best childhood friend, John--yes, my best friend was a boy--and I bumped lips for a fraction of a second when we were nine years old. But there were no tongues involved then, and, being a well-read young lady, I was fairly sure tongues were involved when teenagers kissed.)
What to do? I mean, technically, I wasn't even allowed to date until I was sixteen. Of course, my logical brain brain argued, this wasn't really a date, was it? (At least, I'm pretty sure it was my brain arguing...but never mind. That's not really the pertinent part of the story.)
As Hotney leaned in closer, I panicked. Stall, stall, stall! I needed time to work out in my head exactly what I should do with my lips when he connected. I felt...ill-prepared. So I did what any girl would when the hottest guy in school was zooming in on her mouth--I stuffed it full of potato chips at the last second.
To no avail. Too late to stop his landing, Hotney completed his mission.
It didn't last long. Hotney did not deepen the kiss to anything like the ones my friends and I had read--and giggled--about. (Can't say as I blame him.)
As for me--well, I was so mortified I jumped up and ran out of the den, making some excuse about hearing my mother calling me. Hotney was gone when I got up the nerve to return.
We never spoke of it afterward, and he never asked me out. My brother never teased me about the episode, so I guess Hotney never mentioned it to him. Probably was afraid of getting beat up. *shrug*
So, how do I remember my first "real" kiss?
Well, it was...salty.