We had been playing this game of flirt for a couple of weeks. It’s not that I didn’t like it, I was just starting to feel uncertain. Did I misread all of the signs? Did he not really want to get together? It was getting in the way of a good nights sleep.
So I decided to take action. I was wearing the most daring outfit I felt comfortable in and went to the place we had planned to meet. If he would not make the final move, I would take that as a definite sign, he wasn’t interested enough.
He was already sitting at the counter with a beer in his hand, talking to one of his friends. It was only when I removed my long, black coat, that one by one the men at the bar, turned their heads to look at me in surprise.
I decided to prolong the game for just a little longer and sat at the end of the bar, ordering a drink for myself. Some people came to talk to me, but it was obvious the only wanted to have a ‘look’.
It took about an hour before he had the guts to sit next to me, or that’s how I define his actions. I should really say behind me, as our backs were almost touching each other. We still hadn’t said a word to one and other, but I could feel the warmth of his back. It made my temperature rise.
The evening passed and I could feel disappointment, hiding behind the corner. When an ex-boyfriend of mine started showering me with compliments, I felt a touch against my hand that was dangling next to my side. At first I was rather unsure of what had happend, but then a more daring large hand, was caressing mine. I could not keep myself from smiling, I knew who that hand belonged to and I felt relieve wash over me.
The ex, encouraged by my misjudged smile, asked if we should try dating again. I was suddenly very awake, realizing, I might have given him the wrong impression. So I told him, that although he looked fine and I was happy to meet him again, I already had my heart set on someone else. He looked at me in disbelieve. But soon realized that my hand was intertwined with a large hand, belonging to the man sitting behind me. The ex looked at me and smiled graceful. Before leaving, he gave me a kiss on the cheek and whispered that he would be happy if I should ever change my mind. I replied witch another smile, while my hand was squeezed.
His voice sounded softer then it ever did, asking me if we could look up somewhere more private so we could talk. I put on my coat and followed him out the door. During the walk to his appartement, we did not talk, nor did he let go of my hand. It was not until we entered his living space that he walked up to me and lifted me of of my feet, remembering a conversation where I said I wanted to be swept of of my feet. And then he gave me a kiss, filled with held back passion. I remember I wanted more, so I kissed him again and again. I felt like I had waited forever to be able to kiss him, and would not be satisfied until all that build up frustration was kissed away.
We did talk. while holding hands, while hugging, kissing and trying to feel each other. I wondered why he was slow in approaching me. He told me he didn’t want to fight for the same girl his friend did. He wondered about why I chose him, I replied that he had grabbed my interest ever since the first time we had met and my belly suddenly produced butterflies. The last thing I remember is saying that dreadful goodbye. I did not want to leave. But if I didn’t ,…
And that, my friends, is the story of our first kiss…