Elizabeth Berg’s book of short stories, The Day I Ate Whatever I Wanted, is a worthy read if you like light, humorous chick-lit. The author interview in the end papers prompted today’s essay.
Berg is asked about her first kiss, which came as a result of Spin the Bottle, and she described it as slow electrocution. When I mentioned this to a friend, her reply was, “Where would any of us be without Spin the Bottle?”
Which put me in mind of my first kiss. I was about 12 when I spun my first bottle and got Deanna Kleinbord. I am certain I didn’t electrocute her. I am wondering why, if there was nothing memorable about it, why do I remember so clearly that it was Deanna. I don’t remember anything else—well, I remember she was tall.
Nor do I remember my second kiss, although I am sure years passed before it came along. I suppose that makes me a late bloomer, although in my dating history there are many who would say I never bloomed at all.
I don’t remember any other kisses that were high-water marks. Not my first French kiss, not my first kiss that lasted more than one second, not the first girl that I got a second kiss from. I don’t know if I ever understood whether a kiss was the equivalent of first base.
During my first year on the road, I collected the answers to such heady questions as what are the changes in politics and religion in the past 50 years, where have all the hippies gone, and when is the last time you had sex in a car.
I think I need a light question. What was the occasion of your first kiss? How old? With whom? Was a spinning bottle involved?
I’d like to test-market the question here among the passengers of the Jolly Swag.
So. Tell. What is the story of your first kiss?
N.B. If you don’t know about Spin the Bottle, I suggest Wikipedia.
If anyone knows where Deanna Kleinbord is, let me know.