First kiss.

2 02 2011

I’ve been married for awhile now. This August, we’ll celebrate 12 years married, 17 years together total.

Wow, that was surprisingly painless to type.

Needless to say, there aren’t any more breathless moments when he enters the room. No more waiting by that phone, pining for his call.  Glances from across the room no longer make me feel giddy and slightly nauseous with anticipation. Romance now is defined when he folds the laundry and puts it away, does the dishes, takes the kids and leaves me to revel in delicious silence, and the best yet, offers to “cook” by ordering take-out. Clearly, the man knows how to make me swoon. 

But oh, those moments of infatuation still echo in my heart. Dan was the first (and only) man I have ever fallen in love with. I can still recall the colour of his shirt when I first saw him, walking in to the building supply store where I worked. The dust of his work on his face, and how his hat was slanted backwards. How I asked my friend afterwards who he was, and how I called him a hottie and declared that he was going to be mine. Pushing the other clerk out of the way so I could sell him drywall. Finally seeing him in the bar one night and walking up to him, liquid courage in my hand, saucy and bold, demanding that he take me out. The fine art of flirtation just for him, giddy bravado infused with attraction. 

That first date, gauging one another while playing pool and then heading out to the bar and watching a hypnotist make fools out of the volunteers. Tentative hands touching, then holding on to each other. That long, yet too short walk back to the car in the warm summer night.

The best part of the evening, that unsure moment, will he kiss me? His hands placed tenderly on both sides of my face, tilting me upwards to meet his lips, and that first kiss became ours; soft and shy and powerful. It went on forever in my mind, but all too soon, I was saying goodbye to him, heart still pounding, hands clammy, head whirling.

That night, I went home and wrote in my journal that I had just kissed the man I was going to marry.

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