On the commute from work this evening the radio hosts were talking about remembering that first kiss.
While I’m sure they were referring to the teenage years, the topic pushed me much further back in time. Flashback to 2nd grade and a little boy with a huge crush on me that he didn’t bother to hide very well. I don’t even know if we’re capable of hiding our feelings at that age.
My parents picked me up at school that fateful day and for some reason gave this little boy a ride home, much to my chagrin! You see, I didn’t particularly like this little boy! I didn’t really have a reason to dislike him. He never did anything to annoy me except having this ridiculous crush. Which probably means he was always under foot, staring way too much and pestering me.
Of course they stick both of us in the backseat, which means he was too close for my comfort zone. He was in my space. Well, I withstood it out all the way to his house and thought good, now he’ll be gone, it’s over!
I had managed to survive what felt like a long, long ride! It was almost over thank goodness, all he had to do was get out of the car.
Then he did the unthinkable. This 7-year-old came at me with a purpose. I could see he had been laying his plan the whole time. He laid the biggest kiss on my cheek, jumped out of the car and never looked back! I died a thousand deaths of humiliation and anger!
I couldn’t wipe it off my face fast enough! Of course my Mother thought it was cute, even sweet. She tried explaining that he simply liked me, I knew he’d liked me. The point was I didn’t like him.
Sure I look back at it as funny now. But did I ever forgive him? Nope!