My Miscellany: Let’s Talk About Kissing (part I)


wp-1485298089762.jpgRudy Clark had it right when he wrote “The Shoop Shoop Song (It’s In His Kiss).”  You want to know if a man really loves you?

“If you want to know if he loves you so
It’s in his kiss
That’s where it is”

I truly believe that.  More on this in Part II of this.  I don’t know when it happened in my last horrendous relationship, but it most certainly was almost 2 years ago:  I remember one day when we were about to get at it, me thinking about Cher’s version of that song:  “can she tell it’s not in my kiss anymore?” 

The anguish and pain she had besieged me with for so long had finally done it:  my kiss was dead for her.  I was going through the motions and that–as I’m sure many of you can relate to– is the kiss of death to any relationship, the loss of passion and desire.  Why I didn’t leave for for almost another year and a half is the subject of another post.

Anyway…before we explore the kiss, I want to set this most important scene.  This scene will come to define the very essence of why the kiss was, and always will be, a most profound circumstance!

I want to tell you a story about a 12 year old boy.  A boy, who up to that point, had never known happiness or peace.  A boy abused.  A boy shunned by all the other kids.  A boy beaten and forgotten in his own home.  A lonely boy.  I remember the desolate feelings that constantly pervaded my thoughts.

I cannot remember much of my childhood before the age of 12.  I have fleeting images that come and go, but I have blocked most of it out.  I am sure it is some form of detachment; a form of self-preservation.  But I remember never having any friends.  I remember day after day of playing by myself.  I was always picked last in gym.

Lonely Child Seesaw

I always stood off to the side and watched and listened to the kids playing in the schoolyards.  It was always that way.  I remember weeks on end of being locked in my room.  I remember the visits to my Aunt’s house, my older cousin.  I remember the sadness.  I wasn’t a bad kid, it’s just nobody really paid attention to me.  Or, if they did, it was for trauma and abuse.

Then I kissed Angela.

I was about 12.  I was hanging around the back of the Elementary school when some boys told me there was a girl in the alcove who would kiss me if I went up to her.  It’s been over 40 years and I still remember my heart pounding out of my chest as I approached her.  I still remember the devastating look she gave me.

She smelled like a garden of a million flowers!  She was a lovely thing!  She was a gorgeous thing.  She was a fragile thing.  And when I kissed her, my world exploded into a thousand colors!  And it was no peck and run!  No, this was a deep and haunting kiss.  A transforming kiss.  A kiss that pulled something from deep within my soul that has nurtured and comforted me through all the rest of my 40 years on this earth.colors

I truly believed I had not seen colors in the world until that moment.  I just looked into her eyes and then bolted!  I remember staggering out of the alcove, the boys asking me how it was, but I just took off.  My heart pounding, an energy filled me from head to toe.  My inner sanctity was never the same.

Looking back I realize that I found love!  I found joy!  I found a serenity I had never known.  I found something else, but that wouldn’t be defined on that particular day, lol.  Or, all of that had more than likely found me!  For weeks I would walk by her foreboding house, aching to knock on the door and talk to her.  I had to see her again!  I was in love.

Alas, one day I did approach that scary looking door.  The porch crooked and dominated with broken furniture and pervasive shadows.  Finally, one hot summer day, I knocked on the door and stepped backwards, heart thundering out of my chest.  Then, abruptly and violently, the door swung open and the scariest man I think I have ever seen in my life stepped up and I turned and cleared the four porch steps and never approached the house again.  I never saw Angela again.  But I was inexorably changed for the rest of my life.  Because I kissed Angela.

(part II:  my search for that feeling again)

40 comments on “My Miscellany: Let’s Talk About Kissing (part I)”

  1. Oh I remember my first sweet innocent kiss. I loved him so much – and even now as an adult I believe my love was real. I was also 12. I think about him sometimes and wonder about his life. I love your post!!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Rob, you have such a beautiful soul. This touched me deeply, as it so closely relates to my own personal experience to an uncanny degree. My home life was eerily similar. I was in seventh grade, at a school football game and was informed by my friends that the girl who liked me wanted to kiss me. Her and I took a walk into the forest behind the field and found a lumpy patch of dirt to sit on. it was dark and cold. We kissed in what felt like the most vital moment of life i had yet lived. I remember every feeling as you so perfectly described. It’s almost shocking the precise degree to which nearly every nuance of your experience mirrored that of my own. That was in Lewiston, New York, in the fall of 1991. Thank you for sharing your experience. I know exactly to what you refer regarding the death of a kiss as well. I feel a bond with you. … her name was Jackie Baldassara… Some things you never forget.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I’m so glad you shared this, it was so touching. I love how you described it as a “most vital moment” a perfect way to express the sentiment. Thank you always for spending time with me and for being so generous with your comments. That’s why I write, to connect, and I appreciate you connecting! Be well. My future posts on this will certainly raise some eyebrows, but you know me..all or nothing at all lol


            1. Haha. Indeed. It’s going to get way less innocent and a lot more intense that’s for damn sure. I’m making these connections to this stuff now after all these years. It has to come out!

              Liked by 2 people

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