Someday My Kiss Will Come
From "Forget Me Knots ...from the Front Porch"
I still remember the moonlit night. Actually,
it might not have been a 'full moon' but it could have been-I
was on fire. And so was he. We were sitting real close-he
at the wheel, me next to him-on that little bump between the
passenger side and the drivers.
Doug put his arm around me. His dark brown hair, worn longer
than most of the high school graduates his age, was slicked
back. Though not long enough for a ponytail, I imagined running
my fingers through the thick strands and speaking "sweet
everything's" in his ear.
I can still feel the chills traveling to Bermuda and back
when he said, "May I kiss you?" His face was real
close. I could see the fine lines between his eyebrows. My
lips were ready. They quivered instinctively. And then suddenly…they
stopped.
Was Doug really asking me to kiss him?
All the guys previous to the prince were more of the 'take
and grab the kiss when you can get it type'. What should I
do? What would he say if I told him, "no?"
So I made up this line, right then and there--a line, by the
way, that I'd never had to use on any other guy before because
I hadn't had to.
I said, "I don't kiss until the fifth date."
…The fifth date? The FIFTH DATE?
But I had said it.
He was looking at me with his puppy brown eyes, and they seemed
to be saying, That's a joke, right?
…Why DID the chicken cross the road? What is black and
white and red all over?
My face. My face. My face.
Fortunately, this guy was smart. "Can you go out tomorrow
night?" he asked.
Man, he wanted to kiss me bad. And well, I wanted to kiss
him too, so what was the problem? More directly, what was
my problem?
My oldest brother promised me it would happen. He'd watched
me from the kitchen window at the end of the first date, the
second date, the third and the fourth date. After being mad
at him for spying he'd say simply, "Don't worry, you'll
marry him!"
Marry the guy? Was he nuts?
Still, after the few minute visit in the car, this being the
fifth date and receiving nothing but a good-bye, I found myself
walking into the house crying, "He doesn't like me! He
hates me! On the fifth date he was supposed to kiss me!"
I knew then that the prince of my dreams would never call
again.
I was wrong.
The next day he called and we went on the fifth date…but
nothing, and I mean nothing happened. Not even a kiss on the
cheek. Unbelievable! Maybe I reminded him of his sister.
I had met his sister the previous week. Although attractive,
she was tall, big boned, and had so much boundless energy
I thought the floor was going to sink in when she spoke.
No, it couldn't be that. Maybe…maybe…With a swish
of my arm I took a quick smell.
Oh, glory!
I smelled like the old leftover spaghetti from the refrigerator!
Actually, not exactly like the spaghetti. My mom was still
getting after me for putting the leftovers in the cupboard
by mistake. We were looking for that meal for days!
"Is anything wrong?" …Oh, the sad, puppy eyes.
His inquisitive eyes searched my own as I clamped my arms
to my sides and nodded a definite, "no."
"Well then, can you go out tomorrow?"
Tomorrow?
The next day I cleaned my pits especially well, and waited
somewhat impatiently for my prince to come. Maybe he was just
nervous about kissing me…maybe he wanted to, but because
he'd never done it before…maybe this was a huge joke
initiated by my "supposed" friends in school.
I hadn't yet forgiven my friends for the orange peel incident.
Four years later it was still running through my mind like
a slow motion picture movie--the tray with my hot lunch…potatoes…gravy…chicken
fried steak…feeling hungry…smiling…my stomach
groaning…walking down the isle to sit…receiving
strange looks…some private joke? Loosing my balance…slipping…slipping…clank!
Silverware flying…crud in my hair…faces…too
many faces laughing…
Maybe…maybe he WAS afraid…
I went back to the bathroom and re-brushed my teeth, and looked
into the mirror for that all-too-common zit that always made
its appearance at just the wrong time. I smiled at myself,
trying to let "the inner glow" that my mother said
I had, shine through. But all I saw was frightened eyes. Ok,
frightened eyes and a large zit trying to break forth on my
chin.
The doorbell rang.
My heart skipped. I was no longer standing like molten rock,
gaping at myself. I turned from the bathroom mirror. He was
down the hall in the living room. My dad was giving him the
old "now take care of my daughter," routine, which
was really, "if you lay a hand on my daughter, you are
one dead buddy" lecture. My stomach rolled over once,
then twice, before I entered the room and our eyes met.
He smiled, his eyes walking into my own with silent words
I could only imagine meant, "Don't worry, the kiss is
coming later."
"Hi," I said.
"Hi," he answered. "Ready to go?"
I was more than ready. A movie was fine too. You could hold
hands and kiss in the dark. The screen glittered like so many
lips…what was this movie about anyway? I just couldn't
guess. The kiss, where was the kiss?
And then it was over, and his hand was in mine walking me
to the car. This has to be it, I thought as the door opened
and he walked to the other side. Or was it?
"Did you like the movie?" he asked. The car sputtered
its famous start.
"Yeah," I lied. Well, I could have liked it. "You?"
"It was great! I loved that cool part when…"
I was no longer with him. Sure, my body was in the car, but
my soul was thinking of what was to come.
What would it be like? Smooth? Swift? Wet? Tender?
The car stopped. I was waiting. And sweating.
"Sooo…"
"So, do you want to go out to dinner tomorrow?"
After the kiss, buddy…
"Sure."
Doug opens the door and walks around to my side. The door
creaks open like a great gate. I stand, the cool evening breeze
ignoring the heat of my thundering heart.
"Sooo….I guess I should go inside…"
"Ok."
Ok?
"See you around seven?" He winks.
Well, what was that supposed to mean?
…On my bed I reflect on my lack of charisma, or my great
'smelling' body, whatever it was that was keeping him from
kissing me. Why hadn't I just allowed him to kiss me on the
first date? Why?
On the seventh date, Doug and I spent an entire day together,
beginning at the city zoo. As animals of all sizes and shapes
stared back at me behind wire fencing, I couldn't help thinking
about how different this dating experience had been for me.
I had dated various men-boys, I think now, who I'd allowed
to kiss me even before I knew if I really liked them. It was
the kiss, always the kiss I wanted, with no thought about
what it all meant.
Symbolically speaking, I had dated lions, tigers, bears, monkeys,
birds-even frogs, but never a prince.
As the evening became a misty gray we left the zoo, talking
and laughing. Doug and I held hands and he told me about his
family, his job and how much he enjoyed being with me. Somehow
I forgot all about the kiss.
When it came, we were in the car as before. The sky was dark,
the moon shining
within the window like truth. And yes, the kiss was grand,
kind of like a dairy smooth ice-cream cone, chocolate, only
warmer. We finished some minutes later-I'm not sure when.
All I could think about was how much I liked him.
P.S. You know why my husband didn't kiss me
until the seventh date? Just to get me back.
"Someday My Kiss Will Come"was
published in "Forget Me Knots...from the Front Porch,"
ISBN 0-9713266-8-1, 288 pages, $17.95, by Obadiah Press. The
book is out of print.
