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It didn't seem like I rushed my first kiss then, but I realize that I did, now. My first kiss was with my first boyfriend, and I was just about 13. I think I was just thrilled to have somebody, that I sort of ignored his flaws (which didn't seem as bad as they really were, because I didn't want to see them, you know?). We went to the park, our first time hanging out. The moment was right, and we kissed. I sucked. Royally. Horrificly. I was basically macking all over his nose. He even told me it was terrible. He said the only way I could only make it up to him by having sex with him behind the park dumspter. Riiiight? At 12, I said no. Then as a type of punishment, he hit me, a lot. He was 17. Guess he had nothing better to do than beat up on a pre-teen. Naturally, after that, the only calls I got from him were the ones saying he would kill my family. Then we never spoke again. Six years later, I am pretty shamefully still affected by the experience. I really can't bring myself to kiss anybody. I've tried many times with a few different people, but nothing works, and I wanted to cry each time. I do have somebody now, and we've been together for two years. He's the first person that actually understands what that day meant to me, and he is the first person I've not only been okay with kissing, but enjoyed kissing. Basically, the day of my first kiss was one of the worst days of my life, but first experiences are seldom perfect, and if I could go back and do it all over again, I wouldn't change a thing.
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