A first kiss for a tomboyish princess: Jari

When my next guest blogger and best friend, Jari, told me a boy named Fred had asked her on a date, I remember thinking...Oh please don't let it work out. Who wants to marry someone named Fred? Truth be told, I imagined he would be short, round, old and slightly balding. I had never met a Fred before so that is what came to mind when I heard that name. Luckily for me and especially for Jari, Fred is nothing as I pictured him. He is handsome, young and sports a full head of hair. He is also perfect for my best friend.

Our First Kiss…

Some girls are born princesses, and helpless romantics. Others are natural born tomboys who love to roll in the dirt, wrestle for fun and beat up on boys. But no matter what type of girl they are, every girl dreams of the moment when her future husband kisses her for the first time. Anyone who knows me knows that I’m not a princess or a tomboy. But I am much less of a princess than a tomboy.  Growing up, I always dreamed that my best friend would be a boy, that we would do and talk about everything together, and then one day while we were hanging out shooting guns or camping, we would realize simultaneously that we were in love. He would take my face in his hands and gently kiss me just like Mr. Thornton and Margaret Hale in North and South. Now let me just tell you, first kiss with Fred and our subsequent romance was nothing like my dream.

The first time I met Fred I knew that if we ever dated we would get married. I avoided him like the plague for the next two weeks. Not that he was trying hard to see me. After all, we were neighbors at the time so it wouldn’t have been hard to run into each other. But then on Friday night, January 19^th, I received a fateful text message. “Do you have plans tonight?” To which I promptly responded no, and did he want to hang out? Call me crazy. I certainly wasn’t at a point in my life that I wanted to get married. But then again, we were just hanging out, right? We had a blast. And two weeks later we were exclusively dating. That’s a story in and of itself but back to the topic at hand…

Because we were exclusively dating I knew we would inevitably have a first kiss. Most girls in this situation might be thrilled waiting for the anticipatory moment. I, on the other hand, was overwhelmed with the task of avoiding a terrible cliché. You see, Valentine’s Day wasn’t too far away and I knew he was going to wait until then to kiss me. I didn’t want to know it was going to happen. I wanted to be pleasantly surprised. It was supposed to be a magical moment. No one is surprised when they get kissed on Valentine’s Day. The week of Valentine’s Day arrived and in an effort to find a way out of the dreaded situation I talked to my good friend Janine who wisely advised me that the only way to make sure my first kiss wasn’t on Valentine’s Day was to kiss him first before the day arrived. Shoot. Was I really supposed to be in charge of my first kiss ever with my future husband? But deep down I knew she was right.

In the following few days several opportunities presented themselves for me to seize the moment and make magic happen. But each time I chickened out. And then the day arrived. February 14^th. We went out to an early breakfast together and then said good-bye until night because Fred had classes to attend to. All day long I fretted about what I knew was to come. Worse than that, I knew that all my roommates knew and that when I came home that night everyone was going to ask me about it. Why did I have to be such a chicken and not kiss him first?! If you want the truth, I don’t remember anything that we did that evening besides deliver flowers to his sister (it was her birthday) and the drop off at my door. Student housing doesn’t provide for the most private of evening farewells. I could hear my roommates inside the door.

The moment arrived. I knew it had come and I couldn’t do anything about it. There I was; freaking out that he was going to kiss me in such a cliché manner. There he was; freaking out that he was actually going to kiss me at all. And then like all the glory of an awkward teenage kiss (though we were both well into our 20s) he leaned in and kissed me with a quivery lip. WHAT!!!! Your first kiss with your husband is supposed to send fireworks into the sky and I got a quivery-lip kiss? Was I mistaken in knowing we were going to get married? After all, there’s got to be some chemistry. We said goodbye, I quickly walked past my roommates (one of whom was my sister) into my room and I stewed about it all night. The thing about having a first kiss with your serious boyfriend is that it sets a precedent and you know on all the dates thereafter that you will be receiving kisses. It’s bound to get better, I thought.

Turns out after date number two following Valentine’s Day the poor kid was just as nervous as before, and what did I get? Another quivery-lip kiss. The next kiss was slightly better but I wasn’t sure progress was fast enough for him to get it right before he proposed. I explained my dilemma to another friend. “Look Jari.” She said. “If you like him so much and you don’t like how he’s kissing you, next time just kiss him the way you want to be kissed.” Brilliant. So that’s just what I did. 4 years and 1 child later Fred’s still kissing me the way I like to be kissed. And we are living very happily-ever-after. 

(Just a note: I agree with Jari's friend and her advice. It's true...if your special someone isn't kissing you the way you want...teach him. You'll be glad you did.) 

i will be featuring different pieces of some of my favorite bloggers and readers' love stories throughout the month of February since it is the month of love and all. So don't be alarmed if you have lots of posts from me this month. Happy "love" making, and I mean that in the cleanest way.