54: Twelve Boyfriends... and Never Been Kissed

54: Twelve Boyfriends... and Never Been Kissed

From Chicken Soup for the Soul: Teens Talk Middle School

Twelve Boyfriends... and Never Been Kissed

Patience is also a form of action.

~Auguste Rodin

My first boyfriend was Tom. I was in fourth grade. He was really cute and for the first time the boy I liked actually liked me. In the middle of the soccer field, he asked me out and I was the first girl in my school to have a boyfriend. We shared awkward glances, sat next to each other on the class field trip to the Detroit Zoo, and, oh my God, held hands! But the fairy tale ended when I broke up with him after two weeks because my friends—well—wanted me to.

Then there was Jim. Middle school had just started and every kid was trying to re-establish their social status after the class size more than tripled from 60 to 200 kids. I remember sitting in English class with my hair perfectly curled, but my nose running from a bad cold like a green faucet. Of course, this was the day the most popular kid, with his brown hair and green eyes, was making googly eyes at me. Whenever I turned my head around he’d be looking at me, smiling. I was too afraid to go to the back of the room and make the embarrassing loud noise of clearing out my nose, so I decided to continue using my hand as a wet Kleenex.

We left English class and my girlfriend said, “I think Jim likes you.”

“Really?” I said, absolutely shocked, while wiping my nose.

“Yeah, he wants to ask you out!” she exclaimed.

And the next day Jim and I were boyfriend and girlfriend. Two weeks later I dumped him, because I knew there were more fish in the sea.

So I dated some boys I liked, and other boys because my friends were dating their friends, and others that I was repulsed by. Go figure. As I was become a J. Lo incarnate, dating everyone and anyone under the sun and dropping them just as quickly, my friends were discovering the mystery of older men.

One day in seventh grade, my girlfriend Jacki came into school. She always had her long, blond hair perfectly straight. Today she felt, for some reason, that she was having a bad hair day and needed to put her hair up. When she pulled back her perfect locks into a high ponytail, we immediately saw what she was trying to show off: a small, light purple bruise on her neck was on display for the entire middle school to see. Jacki had a hickey. She wasn’t called a slut or a whore; instead all the girls were jealous she was romancing an older man who actually kissed her!

In seventh grade, though, I was losing my looks to a bad case of acne, braces, and pre-pubescent breasts. My endless track of boyfriends was slowing down. Then I met Tony, an eighth grader. He wasn’t exactly Mr. Popularity, but I was completely smitten. After weeks of courting on AIM, we finally decided to start dating, but by the time we finally admitted we liked one another he was going to high school and I still had never been kissed.

I had a few more “flings” in eighth grade, and then came Steve. He was in my grade and super cute with his shining brown eyes, big smile, and brown hair with natural blond highlights. He was a soccer player and made me laugh without even saying a word.

We decided to date, for real this time. We had been dating for three weeks, the longest I had ever dated anyone. We were so serious that I bought him a box of jellybeans for his birthday. My mom even knew about him—she was the one who paid for his birthday gift. Everyone was teasing us, “When are you going to kiss? Have you guys made out yet?” I was so nervous! I had to prepare for the big birthday day.

A few days earlier, my girlfriend, who was probably nearing third base with her older boyfriend at that point, was trying to teach me how to kiss. I was so confused. Do I peck? Do I use my tongue? What is his tongue going to feel like? What do I do with my tongue? Will I be good? What if my breath stinks?

The big moment arrived. At the end of school, on his birthday, we went outside to say goodbye; with all eyes watching us we gave each other an awkward... hug. The next day I dumped him. He started crying. I was relieved; now I wouldn’t have to deal with the stress of kissing him!

I finished middle school with all As and twelve boyfriends in my pocket, but not a single kiss to cherish on my lips. I didn’t have my first kiss until spring break of my freshman year of high school. All the waiting made it utterly romantic. The cute older boy with blond curly hair and a tender touch kissed me under a Jacuzzi waterfall in Sedona, Arizona.

While other girls’ reputations were already tarnished from rumors of making out—or further—in the middle school locker rooms, I came out of middle school with my reputation and bragging rights intact.

I learned that physical love can be unkind to girls, and that it is better to wait and maintain an innocent, “prude” reputation than experiment too far too early. It may be embarrassing at the time, but waiting for the right moment will make the kiss more romantic—and the memory so much sweeter.

~Andrea Feczko

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