Nina says...
One of my most vivid memories is of the best kiss I've ever received. I truly don't know if it will ever be topped.
I was eighteen. And I had only kissed one boy before. The world was so fresh and undiscovered.
I had been playing a game of truth or dare with a group of 30+ year old men, all of which were old time theater geeks, up at a campsite in the mountains. And of course, one of the men was dared to kiss me. His name was Russ, he was overweight, balding, and so charming. One of the funniest men I have ever met. The first kiss of course was awkward, iterrupted several times by bursts of laughter from both of us. As the night wore on, the innocent little dare progressed into a kissing competition between my friend and I, the only other girl in the group, with Russ as the judge. To my utter shock, I was deemed the victor, the best kisser of the night. It was so wonderfully wrong, but I remember feeling so proud of myself. When the games had ended we all headed back to our cars, on our way to returning to our real lives. As I was standing by the door of my friend's car, Russ approached me with a sort of skip in his step. He looked me right in the eyes and said "I should show you how I really kiss the girls." I laughed sheepishly, embarassed by the fact that a grown man actually
wanted to kiss me. Before I even had time to blush, he grabbed me and pulled me close to him. He put both hands behind my head and gently grabbed onto the tangles of my hair. And that's when it happened... a kiss. An actual, spontaneous, unexpected kiss. The kind of kiss you can never remember accurately, because it was meant only for that moment. It was like a disaster set inside a wonderous chaos. For a brief moment I belonged only to this man, to the desire he felt. It was so sincere. It was so perfect.
On the drive home I remember feeling a sort of shell shock. My friend kept asking me about it and making jokes, but I barely heard her. I was lost in the most fabulous confusion. Why me? Why had he wanted me? I didn't know. I would never know.
The next day I remember wanting so badly to tell someone about it. To try and make someone understand how amazing the encounter was. But the awe was in an unspeakable language. I could never find the words to get it just right. And I felt a strange apprehension about sharing it. Part of the reason it was so beautiful was because the moment belonged only to he and I. No one else was invited. No one else would have understood.
I always wondered what it would be like to share a moment of truth like that again with someone unexpected. Someone uninivited, but completely welcome. Someone who was just there with me. Someone who got it.
I imagined I would feel at home.
I was right. And I was wrong. These encounters aren't meant to be predicted. They are meant to rock your boat. They are meant to show you that you can still be challenged. That you can still discover something worthwhile lying somewhere in the darkness.
I never ask for these moments. But I crave them. And I miss them when they are gone.
