First Kiss..

Okay, so I've been writing about serious stuff for a bit, let's change to something 'completely different' as Monty Python likes to say. Your First Kiss.  I put that in caps because Ann Landers says it's important.  She wrote back to an impatient 13-year girl that she should wait for just the right person, since it is something that she would remember for the rest of her life.  

I'd like to know: A.  Where was Ann Landers when I was 13?  and B.  It's true but for very different reasons than Ms. Landers would have you think.

First of all, there was zero chance that I would have written to Ann Landers to ask the question.  I didn't read a paper, much less have the patience to write to her and wait for a reply.  I can't imagine some current teen sitting on her bed one day saying, "Oh, I know, I'll write to Ann Landers, wait a month or two and see what she says".

So without the benefit of Ms. Lander's insight, my information on the dos and don'ts of the first kiss came from my fellow 13 year olds - Henry Rathjen, Ron Simmons and Jack Teider.  In retrospect one would have thought that you'd look outside your immediate circle of brain developmentally challenged friends to find an answer, but that would have been a bit too obvious, so I went on gut instinct.  I didn't realize until years later, the full consequences of that night.

I grew up in a rural New York town called Rhinebeck.  One main street, one high school, one drug store, and one hay ride planned by the school as part of a school dance.  Nighttime, sitting on hay, back of a horse drawn wagon, moonlit sky, next to Susan Sanders - 'Susie'.  Various other guys and their dates scattered around, none of which I even remember - my focus was totally on Susie' - knowing that there was a good chance for that first kiss.  

Susie and I were in the honors classes together in school, she was thin, cute, athletic, shy and wore braces - as I did.  I went on the date that night because her best friend, Michelle Pavey, future Prom Queen, had arranged it - she had gone to each of us and said that the other wanted to go on the date, so on the date we went, feeling a bit flattered and nervous.

So, we bounce gently along for a bit, it's dark, warm, and a perfect setting. I sit close and let the occasional bounce bring me closer - then in a move that I don't remember I leaned over and kissed her.  I don't actually remember too much about the kiss, accept that our braces met, and that she was very nervous - shook a bit as I recall.

Anyway, not much happened after that, except that I did see her after school the next day, and she was very upset.  She found me walking home from school and in a shy voice, asked why I didn't like her.  And before I could answer her that I did in fact like her, but didn't know how to act, she asked be the question that has stuck with me for life.  She asked me if it was because her chest wasn't big enough.  

Now, before you go jumping to any conclusions, you should know that I had no real first hand knowledge of her anatomy - only a brief sort of passing touch as I reached around to hold her on a bouncing wagon.  So the question caught me completely off guard.  And, and this is the important part, there's no right answer to this question.  There never has been and there never will be.  This is a boy - girl dynamic thing that is as old as Eve asking Adam if the snake makes her look fat.  It's the same question as 'Is this dress too tight?', or 'Does my new haircut make me look old?'

Susie and I parted ways a few months after our first kiss, with no acrimony that I remember, just sort of parted.  I've now been married for over 20 years to a wonderful woman, a woman that I fully expect and hope is the last person I see on this earth, and, I still get nervous every time my wife asks me questions like this.  

When you first know someone you never ask these kinds of questions, you each assume you look great, and to each other you do.   Then a couple of years later it moves to Stage 2. and she will, one day, ask you what she looks like and you'll say  'You look great'.  This answer comes easily and is taken without question, and everyone is happy, no matter what she really does look like.  

After a few more years, Stage 3. starts and you now expect honesty from each other, so you'll answer truthfully and sometimes hurt your partner's feelings, but at least, you think, she is spared being seen in public wearing ill-fitting dresses.  Some years later, Stage 4. begins and you back track and start saying something like 'You always look good to me', and you're both okay with that small cover up.

But now, after 20 years, in Stage 5. my wife won't let me say any of these things.  I'm supposed to be absolutely honest - none of this Pablum 'you look great' stuff - if she looks fat I'm supposed to say so, if the purple dotted dress looks like a tablecloth for a teddy bear picnic, I'm supposed to fess up to it.  

The trouble is the system is set up for failure.  Because of the first years of automatic compliments she doesn't believe me if I'm flattering, and she'll say 'Come on what do you really think?' and I'm forced to come up with a false criticism or we'll never get out of the house.  And because she can still remember her hurt feelings in stage 3. she's upset with me if I say something critical - there is no middle ground.  

And this all started with that first kiss, and Susie's first question to me.  I stammered an answer out that day to Susie - something about no of course not, I'm sure her chest was just the right size, but that no, I hadn't really noticed, but by that I didn't mean her chest was to small to notice, I just meant I hadn't any first hand knowledge, not that I would ever do that, not that I didn't want to, that no, what I really meant was..