Blogging about tongue kissing09/07/06

I grew up in a pretty small town. The population is something like 35,000. The town is famous for popcorn, building schools over toxic waste dumps, and the finest president this country has ever known: the late, great Warren G. Harding.

There are a few things you can do for fun in a small town. You can walk around. You can shoplift. Once you get old enough to drive, you can participate in the age-old tradition of "Shooting the Loop," which is driving your car around the two or three blocks that constitute downtown over and over and over, and yell out the window at people. You can smoke crack. You can fuck.

When I was a kid, my two main pastimes were ramping my bike off of things (once, my sister tore her ass up ramping off an indian burial mound) and trying to find a boy to make out with.

The religious right and the Republicans that are in the pockets of the religious right seem to think that not teaching kids about sex will result in kids not having sex. I will let you know that as soon as I figured out what guys were for, my once creative young mind was transformed to a veritable Grand Central Station, where every single train had one destination, and that destination was getting it on. If you live in a small town, fucking is pretty much one of the only legal things to do for fun.

I think part of it was that I hung out with some girls who were, how should I say this, of loose character. I was a pretty young kid, like 12 or something ridiculous like that, and a lot of my friends had already made out. One of them even had sex with some dude, which sounded very exotic at the time, but I now realize just means that she was exploited by some 15 year old boy.

So, in the summer between my sixth and seventh grade years, I decided that I would get with the program, and make out with someone. I wasn't too interested in most of the guys I went to school with (12 year old boys are pretty much the unsexiest thing ever), so I somehow met this dude who live in the country. Country boys were the best... they lived out in some corn field, weren't that smart, and were easy to avoid once you wanted to break up with them, unlike those pesky city boys who had the nerve to still come to class after you had your best friend tell him you didn't want to be his girlfriend anymore.

I somehow met this guy. I will call him "JARED" because I think his name might have actually been Jared. Jared was 16. I told Jared that I was 15. We had a hot and steamy phone relationship at first, where this historical exchange took place, an exchange that undoubtably set my young loins a-quiver:

HIM: So, I am wearing an Armanmi shirt.
ME: Yeah? That's pretty cool, how did you get an Armani shirt?
HIM: No! I said ARMANMI. Get it? ARM ON ME????
ME: ............

So, I made a real date with him, and I was planning on making out. I don't think he knew this. I brought my friend along with me, because I was 12, and I just figured that was the cool thing to do. We met in the playground of a school near my house.

I saw him from afar, and decided to make my move. I ran for him, and immediately crammed my tongue in this mouth. I think my tongue might have already been sticking out of my mouth 15 seconds before I even got to his face, because that is what my friend said I did. He got this look on his face like I had asked him to prove the Poincare Conjecture. Then I ran.

I'm serious. I just ran. The school was mere blocks from my house, and I think I was already home before the poor dude even figured out what happened. I immediately called his house, knowing that he was not home, and broke up with his answering machine.

That same day, there was a really bad storm, and I think he may have been in the path of a small tornado when he was walking home from me sexually molesting him. That's what I heard, anyway.

And that is the story of my first kiss. I didn't get much out of it, thankfully, otherwise I am sure I would have gone on a similar mission to get fucked. If you are Jared, and you are reading this, I am sorry I weirded you out and then dumped you. That's just how I roll, baby.

FREAK 'EM OUT AND RUN, NATALIE. FREAK 'EM OUT AND RUN.
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