In Curt’s post yesterday, he said that our first kiss “may have been the most unromantic first kiss for a couple in the history of relationships.” In the comments section of that same post, Rey pondered the idea that “although you placed that kiss as completely unromantic, i wonder if your wife would place it in quite a different category…now and then….” So Curt and I agreed it would be proper to share my perspective on the matter.
Did I think his prelude was ridiculously lame? No doubt. Was the kiss itself the most romantic, heartfelt show of affection I’d ever experienced? Absolutely!
You see, I started to fall for my happy best friend long before he had an iota of a clue, but we’d been insisting on our “just friends” status so adamantly for so long that I didn’t want to appear a fool—little did I know that he had that department covered. I had found myself watching his lips move for the past six months or so, wondering, longing, waiting, then stopping myself, convinced that a kiss was never going to happen, nor should it.
Then came that December night that would change the dynamic of our relationship forever. When he mentioned mistletoe (and the evident lack thereof), I was struck by a feeling of exhilaration and whatever emotion goes with the phrase, “Oh, brother.” Despite the latter feeling, I was thankful for the invitation to capitalize on an opportunity I’d been coveting for months. Oh, and just to even the playing field of utter lameness, I paused to spit out my gum. I’ll be the first to admit that this was not the way I had envisioned the beginning of the first kiss with the man I would some day marry, but when he says it was the sweetest, purest, most powerful and clueless kiss ever, I must agree. Furthermore, this simple act became the catalyst for his and my separate (and eventually joint) realizations that we were undeniably destined to spend the rest of our lives together as husband and wife.
And indeed it still does make me tingle every time I think about it!