My first kiss was with a guy whose name I do not remember nor care to. He was of medium height, skinny with long hair tied in a ponytail, nicely bearded, with an unforgettable handsome face. He was, in fact, gorgeous and was very aware of that fact. He loved to smoke, flirt with girls, and brag about dating models in the past.
The first time I saw him, I could not keep my eyes off him. I often stole glances of him in class and when we were hanging out with mutual friends. I think he knew I liked him because he often complimented me with silly comments that seemed to mean the world at that time. “you smell like coconuts” he would say and at the moment I finally felt noticed, visible and beautiful. He often complimented my dimples and said a lot about coconuts and shea butter for some reason.
Then one day, we went out with some friends. After consuming an ample amount of alcohol, and vomiting a few times on my part, I was ready. My guards were out and my confidence was hyped. I don’t remember if I walked up to him in the bar or if he followed me there, either way, we were there, staring into each other’s eyes and flirting.
He probably complimented my eyes and probably said I smelled great. Then suddenly, he asked me to kiss him. I told him I had never kissed anyone in my life at the tender age of 21. Yea, I know, I was a super late bloomer. Then he asked me again to kiss him. At that moment, I looked into his eyes, closed my eyes, and gave him a peck on the lips. That was as far as I had gone.
“That’s it?!” he asked in disbelief. I agreed with embarrassment. But then he leaned forward and gave me a french kiss that lasted a few minutes. It was one of the best of the many kisses that followed in the years that came. Who said first kisses were the worst?
After the kiss and more drinks, he asked if I would come over to his place. Although I was so gullible at the time, I somewhat saw what was coming. So, suddenly feeling the urge to protect myself, I pretended in the moment to be mad wasted. But though I kept rejecting him by saying I was wasted, he kept insisting, emphasizing that his place was close by if I needed a place to crash for the night. After some back and forth, I agreed to go with him only if a friend of mine accompanied me. I did not know how to say no even though all the red flags were literally presented before my eyes. He did not seem to oppose that my friend tagged along and instead, was rather pleased. At that moment, I wondered why but didn’t give it much of a thought.
He lived like 45 minutes from the club, no kidding. That cab ride must have been the longest and most scrutinizing ride I have ever had. The whole time, I was reminding myself of two things; how the heck do I get out of this situation and how stupid I am for having agreed to it in the first place.
When we arrived at his studio, he immediately went to the bathroom, and when he got out, he was completely dressed down with only his boxers left on. Scared of being pressured further, I decided to continue my drunken act, this time, even faking puking sounds. Disgusted or perhaps just tired of trying, he just laid me on the couch adjacent to his bed and went off to bed. At this point, I was wondering where my friend who was supposed to be taking care of me was. Then I heard sounds, quiet but noticeable nonetheless. They were going at it and I was there, unable to sleep, clearly sober and in disbelief.
After what felt like hours, I just closed my eyes and prayed for the morning sun to rise. I don’t think I slept that night because three hours later at 6am, I quietly took my stuff and began the walk of shame. Apparently, I woke him up in the process. “Are you feeling better?” he asked. I nodded and motioned that I was leaving. He offered to accompany me, but I declined and assured him that I could halt a cab home myself. I said my goodbyes to my friend who insisted I wait for her and quickly stormed out. I could not bear to spend another minute in that place.
I never saw him again, except for that one time where we met coincidently in a hostel. It was so awkward that we decided not to recognize each other’s presence and went about our separate lives.
If I could go back and advise my younger self, I will tell her – Do not ever succumb to the pressure of doing something you do not want to do even if it might make you appear lame to others (especially that crush). Say no with conviction and stick to it. Trust me, it will definitely save you a lot of heartache and traumatizing scenarios.
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