First Kiss (bp coyle)

So, yeah, I ended up marrying the first boy I kissed. I am that woman.

I was fourteen, he was fifteen. He lived next door. We had known each other forever.

It wasn’t a magical kiss, the world didn’t melt away, stars did not appear.

In fact it was uncomfortable and messy and sloppy as is probably always the way with such things. Everything needs practice. And we practiced a lot over the years. Eventually we did get good at it.

Looking back, that first kiss was bad, really bad. Yet we both laughed about it. And that was what made me want to be with him. He could always laugh no matter what the situation. I never felt awkward or like I had anything to prove.

I admit, I have kissed a few others here and there. Drunken office parties, the Christmas ones are the worst. Even a couple of sordid afternoons in cheap, depressing motels. Not often but it has happened.

We have been together a long time, things fade, become mundane, a chore rather than a joy.

Yet that first kiss is still special and I hope my last kiss will be with him too.

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