I kissed her. Or no, actually, she kissed me – that’s the more truthful way of putting it – and she did it in this way like she really meant it, it being the kiss, of course, and nothing else, because when we finished – I was kind of involved – she had this look on her face like she’d completed or achieved or ended something – our relationship, it turned out – even though it was our first date and our first kiss.
She nodded too, like she’d proved something to herself, or to me: yes, I can kiss, and with tongues. Or to her friends, who’d probably set the whole thing up: she wasn’t frigid – look she’d French-kissed someone all of them thought was kind of sexless and immature – maturity somehow being conflated with being frigid.
A year or so earlier I’d tried and failed with her best friend (Kerry? Kelly? Carly?) when my sister – no doubt worried about my maturity (or frigidity) – had set me up with her at some school disco. I gave her a quick kiss on the lips at the end of some godawful slow dance I was forced into (time to be serious and meaningful after being appropriately ironic during the Macarena), and then spent the next few weeks (months?) ignoring her, probably because I was immature or sexless or frigid or not interested in her, I really can’t remember anymore.
Whatever, we went bowling – me and Julie, not Kerry or Kelly or Carly. We kissed (or, like I said, she kissed me), and then I never went out with her again, because it was really only about that one kiss that she’d probably been thinking about and building up to all afternoon.
I think, though obviously I’ll never know, the whole date was a dare and she was doing it out of pity or because it was her place, as Kerry’s – let’s go for Kerry’s – friend, her inferior friend, the one there to make her look prettier, to kiss people like me, so I wouldn’t think about Kerry, though I didn’t think about her at all. Maybe too it was her way of getting back at me for ignoring her – see, you’ll kiss someone when it’s right in your face, you’re not frigid, you’re just lazy. Something like that anyway.
Not that it matters now. She’s married last I heard – Julie, not Kerry, or Kelly, etc. – kids too, and kissing a man she probably doesn’t spend the whole afternoon thinking about kissing or how to kiss. Which is more than can be said of me.