No Regretable Behavior

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic
I was quite tempted to list this as romance before I realised that what I am going to say is hardly romantic at all...

Submitted: January 02, 2012

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Submitted: January 02, 2012



It may bore you to know this, but it is vitally important to take this into account. I am a teenager and I am not that last person in my group of friends to have not kissed anyone before. However it seems that that fact has changed now - regretably...

We have been friends for a number of years now but it has never failed to be the sort of relationship that has other feelings as an attachment. We seem to go through the same, reoccurring, mind-numbing pattern of we-always-have-feelings-for-the-other-one-when-they-don't-have-the-same-feelings-in-return. So it has taken me some considerable time, but I felt on this recent new years eve that I was over it and that I would be fine spending my countdown to 2012 with him.This was until I reached the point of no return.

I arrived at a house party (which I had been invited to just to clarify) nothing big really just a few friends, and he arrived shortly after me. We got to talking and quite frankly it was nice to just have a conversation with him without it being sexual or flirty in any way, shape or form. I was having a really nice time, naturally. Being with all of my friends was lovely, until we got down to dancing.

(Footnote - If you are a blatant feminist - comme moi - never dance with anyone you have had romantic inclinations with in the past, it WILL NOT end well...)

We were in each others arms all night even when we hadn't had much to drink and we were both fairly sober. He had adopted the hands-on approach for me because for some absurd reason he thought that I wasn't desperate enough romantically to go for him even if he'd punched me in the face and called me a whore. Obviously, it being new years eve and after a little bit to drink, I didn't mind dancing with him regardless of how much he was pressed up against me, it was only when he decided to race ahead on the drunk scale and take a shot that things began to move forward.

I would like to take this moment to explain that obviously I have kissed people before, however I refrain from counting kisses in games of dares or kisses that happened below the age of ten - thus meaning that I haven't really kissed anyone properly before.

Suddenly, everything seemed to change. We began dancing again and he had just reached a new level of being pressed up against me when we both seemed to lean back in glorious drunken unison, look each other in the eye and lean in. It wasn't anything angelic and there was no pounding heart on either end because honestly its the kind of thing that was going to happen at some point.

Never the less, we got a good rhythem going and just let it happen for a minute or two. Only when a friend noticed us at the side in the lounge and started giggling away some muffled screams did I stop and looked at the beautifully amazed faces who were in even more awe than I as to what had just happened. Instead of just diving straight back in I became a little bit sexy (a rare occurrence if not completely extinct) and decided to tease him and just go and sit down on the sofa for a minute. But like a duck to water, almost five minutes later he was sat next to me and we were going for a strike two.

Unfortunately there was another shocked gasp emanating from the opposite corner which was enough to put me off for another ten minutes before we went and did it just one more time when the clock struck 12. I was a little tipsy that night, that's my excuse. He was just plain drunk. There is a shallow sense of disappointment lingering inside of me though. He was my first kiss whether I like it or not and in this instance I'd have to go with not. It wasn't romantic, I could possibly say nice at a very large push but I don't really want to. With someone like him, the eternal crush, you expect that first, marvellous kiss to be special and to mean something to you both. But this time it just didn't. I almost feel like I've been robbed of something and the only thing I can say to cheer myself up is 'at least it wasn't your virginity', which is a plus I'm sure. Regardless, I doubt this ridiculous anti-love story is going to end any time soon, it'll probably just disappear when I croak in 60 years time which is a depressing thought at best. Oh well, at least I know I can't be trusted past ten and with alcohol in my system anymore...

© Copyright 2018 Alice Bell. All rights reserved.

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