French Class

I had my first grown up kiss when I was in grade 6 - with 20 people watching.

Hi name was Mark, and he was the cutest boy in the school. I'm not sure how it happened, but I was told by the gossip girls, who were my friends - I love gossip girls - in the middle of the school day that we were to meet behind the French portable (ironic, I know), after school, and the kiss was to happen there.

I remember being so anxious about this kiss. Was I going to do it right? Surely he had had more experience in this area than me, would he like it? What would I do with my hands while we were kissing? On his arm? Hand in hand? In his hair like they do on 90210? The angst of a sixth grader was always compared with Brenda and Dylan.

I walked behind the portable, gossipy girls at my left and right to see Mark, in his Red Hot Chili Peppers t-shirt waiting for me. Then, it happened. A huge crowd circled us, 100 people at least (or 20, I don't remember) to watch us kiss. I don't know how long it lasted, what I did with my hands, or what he did with his. It was wonderful, terrifying, sloppy and sweet all at once. He broke up with me for Sarah T a few days later.

Years later, Paul and I are at Burger King having Whoppers, and he says he ran into Mark at the mall. With one sentence I was back in sixth grade. I could not stop myself from feeling those butterflies once again. What does he look like? What was he wearing? Was he by himself? The questions were pouring out of me, and wait - Paul was answering: "He looks good, bigger than last time I saw him", "He was by himself" and "If you think I can remember what he was wearing, you don't know me at all". Then it came, the word I was waiting for. "Oh, he said to say hi to you."

That was what I needed to hear. He says hi. To me. He broke up with me for Sarah T, and still wants to say hi. I guess I AM a good kisser. Huh.

Thank you Paul for always telling me what I want to hear when I need to hear it.
And for teaching me how to be a great kisser :)