Thursday, February 7, 2013

warrior in woolworths

Fourteen. I felt like such a fraud. How could I be punk if I had not even had sex. I hadn’t even kissed a boy yet. How could I hang out with the Clash if I was a mere child. I wanted so much so fast. Oh the agony of waiting. I stood on the sand watching the pounding waves but I could not find an opening, a lull where I felt safe enough to jump in. So I just stood there, missing out on everything, watching and waiting.

And then it happened, the first kiss.
(You can read about it here 3/29/12 http://hollyramoswrites.blogspot.com/2012/03/music-and-kissing.html)
I have told the story before, it was indeed a hideous first kiss, but alas….a great gift, life could now officially begin.

The first guy I kissed by choice was some senior at my sister’s friend’s graduation party. I sat on this guys lap in my spandex pants and purple tiger striped v-neck tee shirt that was too big and thus, knotted on one side as a dress. I had on black stilettos and lots of eyeliner like the british punks I saw pictures of in magazines. I sat on his lap and kissed him without any self-consciousness, a little buzzed on alcohol, and thrilled that I knew how to kiss. I knew his name at the time, but have long forgotten it. I had no real interest in him. He wasn’t punk or cool, he was just a high school senior, probably on some team. He was cute enough, but no big deal.

Before the party ended he asked me on a date. I said yes. We went to the beach and I felt really uncomfortable. What were we gonna do now? He had a cassette of the sex pistols and we listened to it. I didn’t bring my bathing suit because it was still too cold to swim and it was windy and boring at the beach. I did not know why I had agreed to go. I wasn’t having fun and had literally nothing to say. Daylight and the lack of alcohol made things pretty obvious, this was not where I was supposed to be. At some point he tried to kiss me and I said that I think we should just be friends, like a real asshole. I say that with great humor. The thing was, he didn’t do any thing wrong, he just happened to be at the party and I didn’t do anything wrong, I was just being true to myself, after all, my aim was true. He drove me home annoyed and I flew out of that suffocating car and back to my little one bedroom apartment that I lived in with my mom and sister. I never saw him again. Relived and ready to go live. Viva la Vida!

No comments:

Post a Comment