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In the summer of of 1972, I received my first real kiss. I was the summer before my freshman year in high school and I was visiting a friend down the street. We had been in his room looking over some comic books in his room. He had left the room to go get a book from his parent's car and his sister walked in.
She was the same age as me, blond hair, brown eyes, and a great smile. The day we moved into our house, I had noticed her and our next door neighbor's daughter hiding behind the hedges. They were trying to get a look at what the new boys in town looked like. They finally got brave and came over to visit. This pretty brown eyed girl and I made eye contact, and there was a mutual liking.
Back to my friends room. She walked over to the bed I was sitting on, sat down beside me and leaned over to press her lips to mine. I cooperated eagerly. It was a soft touch at first. Just a tickling sensation. Then I felt the warm moist touch of her tongue as it brushed my lips. I responded by doing the same to her.
This was a first for me. In the past the most I had experienced from a kiss from someone other than a relative was dry pursed lips pressing together. Not much excitement there I thought, but this was different. I had been excited around girls before. But this new way of kissing was sending a puled charge through me and I liked it.
We were totally oblivious to anything but the kiss, but that was broken up by the sound of her brother's voice saying, "Are you two nuts?"
"Do you know what dad would do if he caught you doing this?"
He took her by the arm and hurried her out of the room.
During our freshman year we continued our kissing experiments from time to time when we could steal away bits and pieces of time together. We became friends and were on the way to becoming more.
In the Spring of 1973, I had missed her at school. I got home that afternoon and mom told me that she had been taken to the hospital. She said that my brown eyed girl had encephalitis. Within twenty-four hours she was gone.
I cried myself to sleep for nights. I hurt so badly that I subconsciously chose not to love or commit myself to anyone for a long time. I eventually learned to love again, but that was not until after college. I had what I thought was love, and as I look back on it now, it was close. It was mostly lust and the desire not to be alone.
Lost love is impossible to replace. If you find your's, keep it.