To satisfy Zilla I am posting about my first kiss, after a comment she left on the Pete Townshend post, below.
To exact my revenge I am turning this into a 'one question meme' and I want to tag you all; Steve, Milt, Doris, everybody, but particularly and specifically Zilla. I will be looking out for her response!
My first kiss was................... in a wardrobe, with a not-really cousin.
By that I mean that my mum and his mum had been friends when they worked for the Fire Service and drove Green Goddesses and all that after the war. His dad and mine had also been friends based at Acton Fire Station. Then they all met and once wed became honorary Aunties and Uncles to each others' children. Not-Cousin was two years older than me (and I am the eldest in my family) but once a month or so we would go to theirs for Sunday tea, which at some point involved the dads relaxing and talking theories in the den, the mums setting to, creating a big spread, and us ordered upstairs, out from under feet, to play.
There we were, crammed into the same single wardrobe, hiding from my brother, when he kissed me. It wasn't confident, but it was magical in its own way; more of a 'jump at the chance' head-butt. Arms didn't (couldn't) come in to it, not given the space, and we bumped noses and even teeth, but it didn't matter, we had made lip contact; we were big and we had a secret.
Then when our hiding space was discovered and we went back to the business of playing, not a word was said about it; I don't think we even looked at each other.
After that, however, my brother never minded being first to be 'it' so much, because he only had to find one of us, to find us both. We had an unspoken agreement, a monthly assignation in some cramped and dark corner of an airing cupboard or the like.
The situation never escaped the realms of blundering, innocent practice, we knew each other too well and couldn't snap out of being childhood friends, but when, years (and a whole world of experience) later, I attended his wedding, he brought his wife over, specifically to meet me. It was more for her benefit than mine, it seems, and I bless them both. For a brief moment I was shocked out of my self image and allowed to see myself from another perspective entirely. She wanted, needed to meet me because, to my surprise, I had the honour and responsibility of being 'the other girl that he had kissed'.
Zilla girl - your turn!
Anyone else? Leave a comment so I can come see :-)