My First Kiss
Mark was actually going out with my friend Barbara. She, however, wasn’t that interested in him. Since she was my friend and I hung around with her, I got to spend a lot of time with him. I liked Mark. Eventually Barbara made herself clear. Mark and I started spending more time together. One winter’s night we went out sledding in the field beside Sunnyside Road in Valois Park. We ran, we laughed, we fell down and rolled around in the snow. He walked me home afterward. I had made up my mind that he was going to kiss me that night. At the door, we stood in the snow, talking for a while, and then we were quiet. I waited. It was a calm, cold night. The snow muffled all sound. Maybe it was snowing gently. My feet were getting cold. And I waited. He looked at his feet. He looked at me. Finally he leaned forward and kissed me, softly, hesitantly. I was 16.
My First Time
I met Chris in a class at John Abbott. The class was “The Individual and the System” and it was about being an individual in society. The class methodology involved a lot of rolling around on the floor and self-revelation. I was crazy about Chris, but quiet about it. Toward the end of the semester we had to do this exercise: sitting in a big circle we had to choose the person that we would like to be with and then, if we dared, express that feeling. I had no doubt that I would choose him. But I didn’t say anything. A couple that was dating chose each other. Yeah right, okay. But for the rest of us the tension was palpable. What we were being asked to do was to expose our feelings and make ourselves vulnerable in front of the entire group. Another girl, Stacy, spoke up and said that she chose Chris. He said that he had also chosen her and went to sit beside her. I was astounded. I was crushed. I couldn’t believe it. I felt disillusioned. I felt humiliated. A few minutes later I also spoke up. I said that I had chosen him too, and that seeing as he hadn’t chosen me then I was apparently eliminated from the exercise. I could have kept my mouth shut. If someone else had asked me --and there were a couple of guys who probably did think of me-- I could have lied and said I had chosen them too. But I didn’t do that. I said what I felt. And in doing so I felt liberated. I felt beyond all judgment of right or wrong. I-SAID-HOW-I-FELT. It was an epiphany moment in my life.
I later confronted Chris. I asked him why he had chosen Stacy. He said that he figured that both she and I had probably chosen him, and he decided to wait and see if either of us spoke up. She took the initiative, and within the parameters of that exercise she won. But I prevailed. He sought me. We started seeing each other.
Christian’s parents were separated and he lived with his father. His father would spend all of his weekends at his girlfriend’s house, leaving us to do as we liked at the condo in Dollard. That was convenient and considerate of him! My first time was a 4th of July. It had been one of those heavy, sweltering summer days. We were kissing and I told him I was ready. He asked if I was sure. I was. I was ready. It was awkward. It took a couple of tries. But it was gentle, it was caring, and it was right. I was 18.
Love at First Sight
Rocio and I decided that we were going to go out to a movie every night at the Bogotá film festival. On Friday night we had plans to see a Cuban film at the Museum of Modern Art. A friend of hers was supposed to come pick us up. We waited and waited. Finally we caught a taxi to the museum, paid and went into the screening room. The film turned out to be a heavy-handed diatribe on the war in Angola. After about 20 minutes, I’d had enough. As we were leaving we heard a voice from the last row, “Where are you two going?” It was José Miguel. He had just arrived. We were heading for a salsa club up the street. He came with us. Over the course of the evening we talked and danced. I was truly taken with him. On Saturday night I invited him to see a play that a friend of mine was directing. On Sunday he invited me to go with him on a photography expedition to Lago Tota, to return on the holiday Monday. When we arrived at the hotel by the lake, the parking area was down the road, so he dropped me off at the reception area to register… at which point I had to ask his last name! I had never before had sex with someone whose name I had learned minutes earlier. I was 28. We were together for 13 years.
Mark was actually going out with my friend Barbara. She, however, wasn’t that interested in him. Since she was my friend and I hung around with her, I got to spend a lot of time with him. I liked Mark. Eventually Barbara made herself clear. Mark and I started spending more time together. One winter’s night we went out sledding in the field beside Sunnyside Road in Valois Park. We ran, we laughed, we fell down and rolled around in the snow. He walked me home afterward. I had made up my mind that he was going to kiss me that night. At the door, we stood in the snow, talking for a while, and then we were quiet. I waited. It was a calm, cold night. The snow muffled all sound. Maybe it was snowing gently. My feet were getting cold. And I waited. He looked at his feet. He looked at me. Finally he leaned forward and kissed me, softly, hesitantly. I was 16.
My First Time
I met Chris in a class at John Abbott. The class was “The Individual and the System” and it was about being an individual in society. The class methodology involved a lot of rolling around on the floor and self-revelation. I was crazy about Chris, but quiet about it. Toward the end of the semester we had to do this exercise: sitting in a big circle we had to choose the person that we would like to be with and then, if we dared, express that feeling. I had no doubt that I would choose him. But I didn’t say anything. A couple that was dating chose each other. Yeah right, okay. But for the rest of us the tension was palpable. What we were being asked to do was to expose our feelings and make ourselves vulnerable in front of the entire group. Another girl, Stacy, spoke up and said that she chose Chris. He said that he had also chosen her and went to sit beside her. I was astounded. I was crushed. I couldn’t believe it. I felt disillusioned. I felt humiliated. A few minutes later I also spoke up. I said that I had chosen him too, and that seeing as he hadn’t chosen me then I was apparently eliminated from the exercise. I could have kept my mouth shut. If someone else had asked me --and there were a couple of guys who probably did think of me-- I could have lied and said I had chosen them too. But I didn’t do that. I said what I felt. And in doing so I felt liberated. I felt beyond all judgment of right or wrong. I-SAID-HOW-I-FELT. It was an epiphany moment in my life.
I later confronted Chris. I asked him why he had chosen Stacy. He said that he figured that both she and I had probably chosen him, and he decided to wait and see if either of us spoke up. She took the initiative, and within the parameters of that exercise she won. But I prevailed. He sought me. We started seeing each other.
Christian’s parents were separated and he lived with his father. His father would spend all of his weekends at his girlfriend’s house, leaving us to do as we liked at the condo in Dollard. That was convenient and considerate of him! My first time was a 4th of July. It had been one of those heavy, sweltering summer days. We were kissing and I told him I was ready. He asked if I was sure. I was. I was ready. It was awkward. It took a couple of tries. But it was gentle, it was caring, and it was right. I was 18.
Love at First Sight
Rocio and I decided that we were going to go out to a movie every night at the Bogotá film festival. On Friday night we had plans to see a Cuban film at the Museum of Modern Art. A friend of hers was supposed to come pick us up. We waited and waited. Finally we caught a taxi to the museum, paid and went into the screening room. The film turned out to be a heavy-handed diatribe on the war in Angola. After about 20 minutes, I’d had enough. As we were leaving we heard a voice from the last row, “Where are you two going?” It was José Miguel. He had just arrived. We were heading for a salsa club up the street. He came with us. Over the course of the evening we talked and danced. I was truly taken with him. On Saturday night I invited him to see a play that a friend of mine was directing. On Sunday he invited me to go with him on a photography expedition to Lago Tota, to return on the holiday Monday. When we arrived at the hotel by the lake, the parking area was down the road, so he dropped me off at the reception area to register… at which point I had to ask his last name! I had never before had sex with someone whose name I had learned minutes earlier. I was 28. We were together for 13 years.
1 comment:
I bought those punch out Valentine's for Sean to give out last year. For the past little while, I have been most crafty...making my own cards using stamps, paper and various embellishments to add texture. I really enjoyed your entry, especially as i didn't have to translate...lol! It would be fun to tag someone with "First Kiss, First Time, Love at First Sight", wouldn't it? Just a thought...
Sharon :)
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