The Kiss

There are many things that happened late for me, one particular thing being my first kiss. I imagined my first kiss ever since I saw it in a movie and couldn’t imagine anything more romantic. Well, as movies often do, they gave me an unrealistic expectation of what kissing would be like. But let’s move on to my first kiss (went a little like this 😉) I didn’t have my first kiss until my freshman year of college. I was 18, almost 19. It was November, and a three-day weekend so both of my roommates and many other people on my floor had left. I was walking back to my room when I was stopped by a group of people who invited me to hang out. I did so gladly, naturally my freshman year I was always looking for new people to hang out with. There met a guy from my dorm whom I had seen before but never really talked to. We talked a lot that night but it didn’t really strike me that he was interested. Then again, I never really think people are interested. But then the next day I was in my room on the phone with my mom when I heard a knock on the door. It was him. I asked him to wait, got off the phone, and we hung out for a while in my room and he asked if I was going to an event in the building that night. I said I was and then he asked if I wanted to go to his room beforehand. And of course, dumb little me, went without thinking. Maybe in the very back of my mind I figured something would happen but I tried not to think about it. So I went to his room, and we sat on his bed and had some conversation ending in an awkward pause. Then he suddenly proceeded to start kissing my neck. Now mind you, this was the first time this was happening to me, and not only that, he also had a pretty sizable beard. And I despise facial hair. For obvious reasons, it felt scratchy and uncomfortable. He continued to kiss my face then looked me in the eyes and finally kissed me on the mouth. I did not like it at all, partly because of the facial hair, partly because of the fact that all of my silly little fantasies about kissing were, well, fantasies. Definitely not reality. After that he told me that didn’t want a girlfriend but basically offered to be a friend with benefits. Of course I did not take him up on that offer and every time I saw him after that for the rest of the year I avoided eye contact and tried not to look embarrassed. And that, ladies and gentlemen, was my first kiss. What really irked me the most was that I didn’t want my first kiss to be with some lackluster guy, who didn’t even know this was my first kiss, in his dorm room my freshman year of college. I wanted the cliché I had always imagined, with a crush in the high school parking lot, or at the park near my house, or on top of the hill by my school. A sweet kiss with nothing attached but an innocent mutual attraction. Can’t help the fact that it unfortunately never happened, can I.

Anyways, for the rest of the year I didn’t kiss anyone else, this was only because the opportunity didn’t present itself again. My next year of college I started to become restless, I wanted to try kissing again because I knew there was a reason people did it all the time, it had to feel good. I just didn’t have a great first kiss, but that was was behind me and I was ready to try again. And again. That year I became quite the little kissing minx. And I enjoyed it. I wasn’t ashamed. All of the kisses took place at parties where I not only had the confidence to do it, but where there were other people who were looking for the exact same thing–a random make-out. Nothing more, nothing less. It happened almost every time I went out after that, sometimes even multiple times a night. In case you’re wondering, my record in one night is five people. But that was definitely an outlier, usually it was just one, maybe two. And now that I’ve recently turned 21, I have finally entered the club scene and have had two make-outs since then.


Yep, that’s me sucking face (as my friend called it) with a guy onstage at a club last weekend. It was not too bad because the dancing was actually good for once. I often dance with guys at the club and it doesn’t always result in a make-out because sometimes I’m just not in the mood, but I’ll dance, if that’s what you call it. Honestly, it makes me laugh when guys ask me to dance because while I appreciate the courtesy of them at least asking instead of sneaking up behind me and giving me a nasty surprise, I still have to laugh at the fact that they are asking me to “dance” when in all veracity he is asking, “excuse me, I don’t know you but may I grind my junk against your butt while I try to feel you up and hope you let me?” Of course nobody asks that, thank goodness because that would be just as creepy. This last guy was not so bad though, because one of the first things he did was quickly twirl me. Oh yeah…he had me at the twirl. He was also a pretty good kisser too. Many of the guys I have randomly made out with have not been great kissers, mostly because they went straight for the tongue. I don’t mind a little bit of tongue eventually, but I feel like you’ve got to lead up to it. I’ve had some guys literally stick their tongues into my mouth before their lips even touched mine. I don’t know what they learned, but I don’t think there’s ever a time when it’s a good idea to lead with the tongue. Ever.

I’ve never seen any guy that I’ve randomly made out with again, or at least not acknowledged them, mostly because I know that most of them wouldn’t remember me anyway. I was always so jealous of one of my friends last year because she was into random make-outs just like me but unlike me where the guys didn’t care if they’d ever see me again, every guy she made out with definitely did not want it to be a one-time thing; they would want her name, number, everything. That never really happened with me. Recently though I was seeing a guy I had gotten to know through mutual friends. It only lasted for a few months but finally I was able to have some completely sober make-outs with a guy who actually did want to see me again. And while that whole thing crashed and burned a month ago, I am glad that at least I was able to finally have some meaningful kisses that actually sometimes gave me those little tingles I had always imagined.



The 21-year-old Virgin

There are many things, simple facts in people’s lives, that are not there by choice. I happen to be a frequent example of this. I am not bad at math by choice. I am not attracted to men and women by choice. And I am certainly not a 21-year-old virgin by choice.

No your eyes do not deceive you, I am indeed a 21-year-old virgin. I never thought I would be in the minority. But I am, and it doesn’t bother me too much. I never did make a decision to remain a virgin. I am not religious, I don’t have any sort of promise ring, and I’m not saving myself for Luke Perry. (shameless Clueless quote) Many virgins at this age are virgins because they actively made the decision to wait. I never made that decision. So why then? The truth is that the opportunity has never presented itself to me. I’ve never had a boyfriend, and never hung out with a guy long enough for anything intimate to happen. People are continuously shocked by this fact. Because I am an attractive-enough looking girl, naturally some guy would have swept me off my feet by now. I just laugh. The many possible reasons for that are for another post. Now of course I could easily throw myself at a drunk and horny man at the bar or get a Tinder with “let’s bang” in the profile but I haven’t reached that point of desperation yet and don’t think I will. So while it may technically be easy to lose my virginity if I really wanted to, I am making the choice to wait for my first time to be at least a little special. I don’t need floating tealights or rose petals strewn across the bed, and I don’t need the person to be a serious partner. I would like it to be someone I know and trust, but not necessarily someone I’m in love with. And while some nights I may writhe around on my bed asking why I am still a virgin while almost all of my friends are not, I try to look at the good in it. It is something I have that makes me different and the right person will see it as a good thing.10671359_10203869511160220_2591981951905630472_n


The Inevitable Resting Bitch Face

It’s a thing. It really is. I’ve had it all my life and only recently has it been given a name. And, unfortunately, a trend. Now everyone claims they have it. Which maybe they do, who am I to judge.

I tend to daydream a lot, or just stare off into space. Whenever I do, my face is relaxed. And somehow that relaxed face will translate over to me being pissed off, bored, or extremely depressed. Which I usually am not, my mind is just in another place and forgets to connect with my face. I’ve had a teacher stop their lecture before and ask me what was wrong. I’ve had friends who have known me for years ask me why I was sad, even my parents have asked me that.

Yet I still do it. And I will keep doing it. Because, and this is what I always tell people when they ask me what’s the matter, that’s just my face.

If you have happen to have resting bitch face as well, don’t worry about it, even when people comment on it. Own it.