My first kiss. This is probably an "indelicate" blog, but when have I ever been delicate. My first kiss was so innocent. For some reason, I was thinking about this milestone and rite of passage while driving home from the pool today. Maybe it was a song on the radio? Anyway, it was in winter, under the light of a street lamp outside my house on Rockcliffe Way in Ottawa, with snow lightly falling -- right out of a movie. I was 14, he 15 -- so waaaaay more "experienced" than I.
His name was Tony Parker -- of the Parker Pen -- and he lived in a mansion on Range Road. He was a year ahead of me and I thought I had died and gone to heaven! I mean, the fact that an older boy was interested in me was heady stuff. (I still remember the shape of his lips, by the way. Can you imagine that!?) To call on me, he had to walk from Range Road to Lindenlea -- quite a hike. We went to a movie and after that, my memory drifts and I don't recall how long we "dated", if you can call it that.
As time went on, I had several boyfriends over my high school years, but that kiss lingers, as it must for all young teenaged girls.
Ah, innocent memories. I wonder whatever happened to handsome, "mature" Tony?
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