All I had ever known was boarding school. There were no boys to distract me. During holidays, there was no heartache – only a sore back from revising the previous term’s schoolwork. Yes, I was a nerd!
Then my cousin’s wedding came around. I was to be a bridesmaid for the first time. I was fifteen and boy-shy and there he was: a groomsman with a goatee beard.
Looking back, the age gap should have bothered me. But my head was fixed on not blushing.
The night before the wedding was a miserable one: my scalp had been burned by the hair relaxer at the salon. The pain made it hard to concentrate during the ceremony. It felt like everyone could tell I was wearing a wig to hide the bald patches of burnt hair.
My only distraction? The cute groomsman.
My mother warned me to get an early night. I needed the rest, she said. I didn’t listen. I illegally gulped down some wine for liquid courage. Then made my move to chat to my new crush. Just after midnight, he cornered me. All I could do was blush. Without warning, he grabbed and kissed me.
But he was so clumsy about it that he somehow knocked my wig off!
The fresh air hit my head. He laughed at me and so did everyone else. My mother’s voice rang true: I should just have gone to bed!
If I had saved that first kiss, it could have been with an amazing guy – one who didn’t laugh at a burnt scalp but sympathised and told me I looked beautiful as a bald person. I’m happy to say that my second kiss was a lot better!
Is your first kiss something you look back and remember fondly or was it as embarrassing for you as it was for MissCautious?
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