Inspiration

I really don't believe in random things. Our thoughts stem off of another thought, and our dreams are depictions of events happening in real life. Hence, this blog did not come out of thin air. A fashion blogger I'm partial to, Tavi, posted about her friend who had created a zine (I know what you're thinking, those things still exist?!) called First Kiss. Elizabeth and Maria asked for people to contribute unique stories for them to add to the zine and then produce (http://firstkisszine.tumblr.com/). I was lucky enough to have read it (thanks to a kind friend who had purchased it), and that became the inspiration for this blog (although I was reminded of this idea by another friend; must give credit where credit is due!). See? One idea derived from another. That's life.

Anonymous-2/6/11

We both liked the same toppings on our pizza. Pineapple and pepperoni. And our middle names started with the same letter. And my address was his address backwards. And I stared at him everyday in English class for the full 45 minutes. I was sure we were meant to be.

I could blame the cheesy pop songs every middle school girl listens to. Or all the happily-ever-after movies I watched. But of course, at the time, I blamed love.

We had a school dance at the end of the year where the 6th graders get all dolled-up. Girls in their finest Limited Too party dresses and make-up from their mothers' bathrooms. The boys wearing button-downs, pulled out the back of their closets, hidden by a mass of t-shirts. I followed suit. My friends and I munched on Dominoes before my mother was to drive us to the dance. They said that my anonymous lover and I would make a cute couple, and this was my last chance to do anything about that until next year. We would look cute together, I thought, and decided that making a move was definitely in the cards.

An hour had passed and he had still not asked me to dance. We were meant to be, and he was supposed to ask me to dance. I felt more and more inclined towards tears as I watched him ask girl after girl to sway with him to the slow songs. That feeling of rejection didn't last long, as I soon was just enraged. I was going to make him mine.

According to my friends, I committed social suicide that night: I asked him to dance. A girl asking a guy was nearly unheard of in our school (and don't get me started on the intense patriarchy of this country..). He said yes, though his eyes made me believe unwillingly, and we swayed, 2 feet of space between us. Ringing through my head were my friends' voices reminding me this was my last chance until next year. Peer pressure makes you do rash things. I inched closer.

I quickly glanced to make sure none of the chaperones were in my sightline, and gave him a quick peck straight on the lips. He dropped his hands from around my waist, eyes wide in terror, and ran to the boys' restroom.