It Started Out With a Kiss

Preface

“It started out with a kiss, how did it end up like this? It was only a kiss, it was only a kiss...”

~The Killers, “Mr. Brightside”

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To a girl like me, a kiss is nothing. The simple merging of lips for that split second, such a small fraction of life, is as insignificant as a cheerful high-five from a job well done. Why should something so small, be such a big deal? Your friends don’t freak out when you get your first hug, or when someone winks at you the first time, so why should a kiss be so... important?

Sure, a first kiss with the man you love should be special, but why do you need to wait out for that one special guy? There are plenty of ways to make a kiss special without it being your first. Go to a serene place with beautiful flowers, lay out a blanket, have a picnic, declare your love for each other, and then move in for the kill, er, the kiss... And anyways, if you get it out of the way before that one special guy, get some practice, maybe you won’t make a complete fool out of yourself the first time you pucker up for him.

Why girls spend so much time worrying and agonizing over it, I’ll never understand. Europeans do it to strangers they meet, for God’s sake. My father once took me on a trip to Europe, and let me tell you, I got enough action to last a lifetime, and it was no big deal at all. Well, they don’t kiss on the lips, but a kiss is a kiss. Right?

Imagine what the world would be like if everyone treated kisses the same way they treat hugs. No more awkward moments, no more shy bumping of the noses, no more stressing over it. It would be a common occurrence, and by the time you found ‘the one’, you would be so sure of yourself, it would be so instinctual, that you could just relax, and... Enjoy.

That’s my philosophy, at least. I’ve believed in it since I was a little girl. I loved to put on pretty dresses, throw tea parties, and kiss everything that would let me get close enough. I think my favorite princess doll had permanent lipstick stains on it (Mom was rather upset that I stole her favorite NYC style apple red lipstick. Oops.). I had my first kiss with a boy at six years old on New Years Eve, right as the ball dropped. There hasn’t been a New Year since where I haven’t locked lips with someone, boy or not.

As casual as many of them were, many of the kisses I have had mean something to me. Don’t get me wrong, not every kiss was special, in fact, the majority were just simple... However; there’s no way I can say that the kiss I shared with my television screen at seven years old wasn’t meaningful.

Before you judge... It was Johnny Depp. Give me a break. I’m sure all of the humans on this planet have kissed SOME sort of inanimate object with a hottie showcased on it. Well, at least the ones who possess ovaries. You know who you are—don’t lie now.

This unorthodox belief of mine has had a significant effect on my life, which I bet you figured out by now. The effects have ranged from fantastic, to... Horrid. For once, the girl in the relationship was the one told to slow down, before being dumped when she was caught kissing her boyfriends best friend in gratitude for saving her cat. Damn felines. It’s not like I was cheating on David, and I gave him fair warning. I’m a touchy girl. We have that sense for a reason! But, just like all the other college guys, he brushed the warning off, thinking I was just exaggerating. He broke up with me over text just hours later, after his damn friend went babbling off to him. “Dudeee, ur gfs a slut lolol we played tonsl hocky!” (Which is a lie, by the way. We did not play tonsil hockey. It was a simple hug, then peck. Ugh, men.)

By the way... Just a disclaimer: I am not a slut, I am not a whore. I’m just a girl who’s enjoying life, trying to be herself.