This is going to be short, sloppy, and not very memorable. Much like my first kiss.
I think I’m probably the worst person to write a nostalgia-tinged piece for Valentine’s Day. I was a late bloomer; average looking with not a lot of social skills or an ounce of flirtation in me. By the time I had my first boyfriend, my girl-friends were already experienced with the boy/girl thing. I was probably pretty desperate to get it over with.
I’m shy and intensely private, so even now I’ll just say my first kiss was disappointing. I didn’t meet my husband until several years later, but I tell him he’s lucky I didn’t give up on that whole messy business and join a nunnery before I even met him.
I’d tell my kids to not be in such a hurry to fall in love. Things happen in their own time. Much like a teenage boy’s spitty, spitty tongue, you can’t force things to go where they are not meant to be.
Find out who you are and what you like before you worry about finding a partner. It’s normal for a young woman to reflect the interests and attitudes of a more dominant person. This is how I wound up pretending to enjoy a really bad reggae band when I was more into REM and U2. I even wore tie dye, and I look ridiculous in tie dye.
So no rosy memories of young love for me. Instead, the lesson that you can try something like kissing, not like it, but like it very much later. Kind of like Brussels’ sprouts, but with more tongue.
This is a blog hop. Read more memories of first kisses from the Women of Midlife. If you have a post that fits with our theme, please feel free to link up.