To my once upon a time love,
I remember the first time there was a kiss. We were children and you ran up to me once your sister left me in her room, you kissed me hard and fast on the mouth and then ran away as fast as you’d appeared. I remember that if it weren’t for the slight wetness left by a five year old boy’s kiss, it would seem like it were not real.
The second time there was a kiss, we were teenagers, new room mates in our apartment. You were broken hearted because a girl in college had turned you down. Writing in your notebook, seated on the floor of the balcony you looked so sad, so vulnerable. I leaned down, hugged you, ran my fingers through your soft hair and kissed you gently on your forehead.
The third time there was a kiss, it was your nineteenth birthday. I had taken you out to celebrate and you had invited friends from your classes, but they hadn’t shown. My heart broke for you so I spent far more on you that night than I should have. We rode the elevator back to our apartment laughing and singing, staggering out to our door. Inside in a fit of giggles, we lay on the floor, my head resting on your arm. I rolled over, putting my face in your neck and kissed the warm spot beneath your ear. You rubbed my back and said you had class in the morning and went to bed.
The fourth time there was a kiss, I was engaged to another man. We met for drinks, got to reminiscing and you held my hand. We behaved like a new couple, stealing glances and furtively touching each other affectionately. I had to leave to meet my fiance at home. Like a gentleman, you walked me outside and to a cab. We hugged as we always did and I felt your arms reach around my body tighter, your head tilting slightly to the left to come in for a kiss. Softly, your lips touched mine and your tongue shyly slipped past your lips, just barely touching my lips. I wrapped my arms around your neck, wanting to bring our bodies as close as we could. The feeling of your mouth on mine, your tongue gently pushing in to find mine. The snow swirled around us and I melted in the cold night air. I went home that night and cried, not out of guilt but of wanting you.
Our next kiss was the next day in your apartment. We agreed to meet at your place to talk about what happened. I knew something was going on because you made your bed. You beckoned me to sit with you, lifting your arm offering me the warmth of your body. You never seemed to be that much bigger than me, but in that moment, I curled into you, fitting into that space you made for me, securing me with your arm draped around me. Your hand caressed the skin on my arm as though it were more instinct than thought. We kissed when you brought my chin up so I faced you, but your kiss was more hungry this time. Exploring the inside of my mouth, with your hands nervously exploring my body. You whispered that we could go to your room, and without a word I rose from the couch, taking your hand to lead you there. As we lay on the bed, kissing, touching, slowly peeling clothing away, the world faded away. I felt your hardness against my leg and my hand sought it out, while your hand slid between my legs. It came to a stop when you pulled away and hesitated for that moment and we realized what we were doing. To this day, I regret leaving. I should have stayed, I should have let you inside me.
We kissed again a little more than a year and a half later when we ran into each other randomly downtown. We hugged and kissed one another on the cheek as though the time between us wasn’t filled with silence. I told you I had left him, as you already knew and offered you my phone number, telling you to call. You called.
Our next kiss was nervous and exciting and furtive and interjected with giggles. You had come over with a movie not knowing a male friend had come to visit. Feeling the awkwardness of his visit, you made subtle nuances to claim me as yours but also sparing his feelings for my comfort. When he went to the bathroom, or left the living room for any reason, you grabbed me quickly bringing me to you, meeting with our mouths. We’d giggle like teenagers when we’d hear him coming back.
A week later, we kissed again. Yet again with a friend over, you brought a movie. We sat apart from one another, stealing secretive glances with the heat and excitement feeling palpable between us. I walked you to the door, hugged you and you pulled me through. You pushed me up against the wall and pushed your kiss onto me. Your hands sought the feel of my skin under my shirt, my arms held you tightly to me. Your body grinding into me. I pushed you against the wall on the other side of the hallway, kissing you, wanting you, needing you. My hand found your erection and I couldnt stop myself from falling to my knees to kiss it. We had to stop when one of my neighbors started to come down the hall. You left to go home.
Our next kiss happened a few hours later. I called you to tell you it was unfair to create such heat and not follow through. You were over in minutes. I quietly led you to the darkness of my room, asking you to be quiet so as not to wake my friend. Reaching up to your neck I brought your face to me to kiss you. I led you to my bed, removing our clothes as we moved. I lay down, arms up, inviting the weight of your body onto mine. You gently brought yourself down to me, my legs spread to welcome you inside me. Your body trembled and I fell in love with your boyish nervousness. I guided you in me and for the first and last time we made love. I told you I loved you and it was then you left.
The final kiss was years later at my wedding. You weren’t invited but there you were. Dressed nicely with shirt and tie. Your arms circled me, bringing me to you, you told me that I looked beautiful, and that my husband was a lucky man. You kissed my forehead and for a split second I wished I hadn’t married.
But that is it, that is where we ended. Even still, occasionally we connect, chat, message. You flirt, you gloat if you manage to get me to admit that the kiss outside the bar was the best I’d ever experienced. But even with that I cannot love you anymore. I wasted too much time loving a boy in the evolution of our kisses, when the boy could never admit he loved me back.
I loved you once but it hurt too much to continue with nothing in return.