Follow Your Nose

Sigh. First off, I apologize for the apparent break I took from this blog. Besides the normal excuse of life, being busy, work etc, this particular story is hard to get into writing. So far, my stroll down memory lane has been pleasant and reminiscent of good feelings. This is where my journey starts to take a real different turn.

I met Josh Bind my sophmore year in high school. He’d been abroad the year before and was a senior but even older since he lost some school credits being transatlantic for a year. Josh is the reason I believe in animal attraction. He was not all that good looking. He was not nice. And, truly, he was not fun to be around. I don’t know why I liked him but without explanation, I did.

There were many flags shining that bright color of red that are so easy to ignore. The first I took note of was when he took my best friend Beth and I out to the dunes one night to meet up with a bunch of people to drink and cause normal teen havoc at the beach. The walk out there was more of a hike and through a dark forest one could easily place in a horror movie. We were all a bit freaked but in a fun way until we actually heard a noise in the bushes that signaled something larger than a breadbox. Josh WAS holding my hand as we walked but the nanosecond we heard the noise, he threw my hand down and raaaaaaaaaaaan. Beth and I looked at each other, took stock of the moment (being ditched by the “strong male” in the group and the supposed bear that was coming to eat us) and also ran. We all made it to the beach in one piece, some of us sooner than others and ended up having a fun night. But the damage had been done. I knew Josh wasn’t great but not until that night did I know he was no good.

Now, here’s the real frustrating part. I was totally attracted to this douche bag. And truly, he was NOT attractive. He had a nice enough body but he had the strangest nose I’ve ever seen on a person. I can only describe it as a pig nose. There is no exaggeration to this description. And, sadly no matter how lame he was (and he reeeeeally was), my body wanted to explore his. This now makes me shudder but at the time, these were all new physical feelings. Similar to the fuzzy feelings that took over my body during my first kiss, Josh brought out a dizziness in me that was addicting. I had kissed before but nothing else. Josh really was my first for body exploration. He was more experienced than I but he himself had never, how shall we say, kissed a girl “down there”. I was so nervous. This is where things get a tad, blunt.

I’m sure no matter what my first oral sex experience was going to be like, I’d always feel exposed. But what happened between Josh and I not only ruined that night but has since tainted all subsequent experiences for me. We were in my bedroom (I’m quite sure my parents were “out”) and had previously talked about what we were going to try that night. I was unsure as I felt very insecure about that area. It was one thing to have his hands exploring but I couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to stick their face down there. I mean, I don’t care how clean you are or what products you use where, there is a scent that women have no matter what. And I was insecure about my scent. So Josh starts kissing my belly and slowly making his way down there and I remember looking over my right shoulder and seeing my reflection in the mirror and thinking “this is a moment, this is my first and you can’t change that and it’s happening right now”. There was real clarity to this moment for me and as I turned my head back and closed my eyes and tried to relax into the warmness that was starting, Josh bolted up. He stood up, put on his pants and walked out the door. Not a word. I was confused and crushed. And yet, I knew what the issue was for him. What else could it be? He later confirmed my biggest fear, that he didn’t like how I smelled. I wanted to ask if he liked how ANYthing smelled coming from that nose. But I didn’t. And in fact, we got past that big ass red flag and kept dating for a few more months. I’m not proud.

Kind of wish I’d had the wisdom and confidence that teen did in “Juno” to know better and be ok with it all. But I didn’t. I will say, while I’m still not entirely comfortable with oral sex being given to me, I’ve definitely gotten over it enough to now enjoy it. But it took years and is still hard for me to even talk about. My mom refers to this ex-boyfriend as “Josh the Jerk”. Not just a nice alliteration. She was dead on. Sadly, it took me another crushing incident to realize just how capitalized that “J” was going to be…

4th Grade Boob Alert

I remember the exact moment I realized my breasts were sprouting into something beyond little pepperonis. I was showering at my Aunt & Uncle’s house so the tub was much bigger than ours at home and this made me really take my time. La-dee-dah, shampoo this, la-dee-dah, soap up this. It was at that moment, as I was rubbing a bar of soap up and down my belly that I first felt the unsettling protrusion which was to be my right boob.

I knew from the first moment of discovery; these were going to be a problem. To start with, I began sprouting the beasts in FOURTH GRADE. The idea of my own sexuality and the attention a “stacked” 9 year old would get scared me, and rightfully so. Ok, it only started in 4^th grade. I didn’t reach my full Double D stature until I hit Jr. High. (hand to god) And, I’m not a big girl. In fact, I’m quite average sized and maybe could have even been called petite at a younger age. Needless to say, I look odd and like I might topple over at any point.

By 9^th grade I was used to them and almost forgot to be self-conscience about my Dolly Parton figure. Jim Watkins had just bestowed upon me my first kiss and he knew I really liked him so I anticipated more smooching in the future. I got my wish and then some. I’m sure we did something that evening besides park at the beach and make out. Maybe a movie, or dinner, or both? But all I can remember of that night was us in his parked car facing some crashing waves we could only hear.

The privacy of the car, not to mention the primo make out setting, helped ease me comfortably into the 2^nd kiss of my life, which I did quite enjoy. We’d totally make out and then catch our breath with a little neck nibbling. All in all, a lovely night. He then drove me home and officially initiated me into the world of dating with three little words; “I’ll call you”.

Jim did NOT call me. And I did not understand. We had good chemistry and talked easily and most importantly, he SAID HE’D CALL.

We didn’t go to the same high school so I didn’t have the luxury of bumping into him in Algebra to say “Oh hey, good morning” when what I’d really have meant would have been “What the FUCK”? Well, if he didn’t want to call me, I CERTainly wasn’t going to call him. I had too much self respect. (I quickly grew out of that). I didn’t know what I’d done or maybe hadn’t done? All I knew was, something changed and I was sure it was my fault. I tried to forget about Jim and actually found myself thinking of him less and less. In fact, it was months later that some friend of mine found out from a friend of his what mysterious occurrence took place that fateful night at the beach.

Apparently, when Jim tried to feel me up… WHAT?! I was there. He did NOT try to even introduce himself to my breasts let alone get acquainted. No no no, must have been a different girl he was talking about. My friend assured me, this story involved Jim and MY boobs. So, I guess when he grazed a breast and I pulled back and he was afraid I was going to slap him in the face. (His words) Let’s step back and look at this story with some perspective. Stepped back? Looks retarded don’t it? I mean, what kind of pussy barely tries to feel a girl up (one who is crazy about him) and then mistakes what I can only imagine was me coming up for air during a mad make out session, as some knee jerk reaction to him trying to get to 2^nd base. I quickly felt better that I hadn’t wasted more time with someone who clearly wouldn’t be able to communicate any none or actual things of importance. “Wait, you DIDN’T want to see that movie? But I changed what colleges I was going to apply to based on that!” Yes, that’s the point, it doesn’t make sense and neither did his “reasoning”. I should have held onto that feeling of realization that I had dodged that particular bullet. It would have served me well in the future with many, many other ill communicators.

First Kiss, Last Dance

I don’t always plan to go in chronological order here but it seems like the next likely story to share would be my ACTual first kiss. I saved myself for the ripe ole age of 14. Now, back in the golden ages of the 80’s when I was in high school, that was considered “old” for not being kissed. But, as previously mentioned in “first kiss-almost”, for some internal Victorian reason, I wasn’t ready. (I feel like this should somehow make my mother proud) So, 9^th grade and never been kissed. Not even pecked and DEFinitely “no tongue”.

His name was Jim Watkins and his bright blue eyes sucked me right off the skate rink and into his dreamy arms. I’d see him every Saturday night at the local skating rink; the hot spot for the weekend. Me, chomping on a Chic-O-Stick in the snack area, waiting to catch a glimpse him circling by every minute or so. Him, being studly as he grinned at anyone he made eye contact with.

Let me set the mood for you. First off, leave the rink and join me at my first Homecoming dance. I’m quite sure the home team lost but nobody cared. Right after the game, we made our way to the transformed gymnasium and we were ready to DANCE. I went with my girlfriend Judy Shubert. We got ready at her place and my mom had asked us to take pictures since she wasn’t there to see us get ready. We of course didn’t care about pictures and therefore forgot.

I caught sight of Jim right away. He moved on the dance floor just like he did on the rink. Slightly swaying to the music but in a way that looked like he wasn’t trying, that he just happened to be in rhythm. I had slow skated with him a couple of times in the past but he never pulled me in. It was always arms on each others’ waist and enough distance between us to have a conversation where we could look each other in the eye if need be.

Back to the dance. Everything was fun, Judy and I danced with our other friends and were having a blast. The night was winding down and like every good high school dance, the dj ended it with a slow song. I couldn’t believe it, he put on “Take These Broken Wings”. This was my favorite romantic cheesy song at the time and I scanned the room for Jim. He totally caught me looking for him, walked right to me and reached out for my hand. And this time when we slow danced without our skates on, he held me too close to make eye contact. There we are on the dance floor, me with this teen hunk I’d had the biggest crush on, swaying to Mr. Mister, cheeks brushing against each other. I thought I was going to die. And then, he kissed me.

I almost wish someone had been videotaping this moment (not really because I’m sure it’s better in my mind than anything else). But, when his lips met mine and shyly introduced the idea of tongues touching I’m pretty sure my already closed eyes rolled in the back of my head and I swooned a little bit. Good thing it was dark and he was basically holding me up while I was dancing in his arms. I’d never felt anything like it, physically or emotionally. I melted. The funny thing was, Judy was dancing next to me and saw the whole thing. She was so excited for me she suggested we take a picture to commemorate this night. My mom got her picture and I got proof that my eyes would be a dead give away to any emotion I had. That night, they sparkled.

First Kiss- Almost

What was your first kiss like? This has to be one of my favorite questions to ask people. It usually gets a smirky smile and a good story. When people ask me, I usually end up telling them about my almost first kiss. To me, that was the better story and greater life lesson. His name was Mitch Belker and I had watched him from much further than face to face during most of Jr. High. He was cute, kind and tall. But he was dating some southern belle named Sammy and they would smooch very much in public. Mostly during recess in the "square". We'd either walk around the circumference, arms linked, or sit in the middle of at those multicolored tables made of metal where the seat bench is permanently attached. There Mitch & Sammy would sit, kissing it up and holding hands. They looked really happy.

And then, Sammy moved away and I moved in. I was surprised Mitch took notice of me but we started hanging out end of the school year and by summer we were "going together". This was one of the greatest summers of my life. Not only because I was about to begin High School but because I was smack dab in the middle of my first summer romance. It was like a happy John Hughes ending every day and we were just holding hands! We'd go to the beach and lay there on our backs looking up at the sky talking about nothing and everything and the whole time I had butterflies in my stomach cause he was casually stroking my wrist with his thumb as we held hands.

One evening, we were walking home from the movies and a couple blocks before we got to my house he stopped me and kind of leaned me up against a wall. He paused there and looked right straight into my eyes. And I don't know what I was thinking, honestly can't remember. All I know is, when he leaned in to put his lips on mine, out of my mouth came these words, "I just want you to know, I've never been kissed before".

At the time I believe my motivation was purely educational. I thought it appropriate and important Mitch understand that he was about to kiss lips that had only been touched by family members and popsicle sticks. It wasn't until later, years later that I understood my declaration to be the subconscious self preserving act that it was. I wasn't ready to be kissed. And it worked. Mitch (god bless him- and I don't really mean for god to bless him) pulled away from me and sort of looked at me with his head cocked to the side, grabbed my hand and we continued walking. He was a gentleman. Never tried to kiss me again but didn't ditch my ass either.