by Maggie Miller

Created on: June 15, 2009

I was 14 years old when I had my first kiss, and I was completely blindsided by it. It's been said that there's a considerable amount of pressure pushing in around our "first" anythings, from kisses to jobs to sex to boyfriends, and that some people raise the bar way too high in light of these expectations. I, on the other hand, wasn't expecting anything. I was still floating around in the awkward, post-pubertal stage of my life, wondering if I'd ever wind up with a boyfriend and questioning the probability of ever getting a kiss from anyone outside of the occasional peck on the cheek from an affectionate family member.

It was a late afternoon in June and I'd just gotten out of my sister's dance recital. After sitting in a freezing theater for two hours, I wanted nothing more than to go home and hang out, but it was Kacey's 8th grade graduation party and I'd already promised I'd attend. Kacey is one of my oldest friends; our mothers met while we were crawling around with a rag doll clown at Gymboree, and our friendship progressed to building snowmen, making movies, and devising innovative ways to torture our sisters. Despite our close friendship, Kacey and I were total opposites. Puberty was good to her; she had a toned body, a bra size, good skin, and lots of popular friends. I, on the other hand, had just figured out how to fix up my hair, was still groping in the dark world of fashion sense, was clueless when it came to makeup, and had just emerged from a punk rock phase where I sported bike chain necklaces and faux-leather snakeskin pants. I was coming back down to earth, but I was insecure and still searching.

So when I arrived at her house later that evening, I felt nervous and racked with anxiety. I could already hear the girls cannonballing into the pool, laughter erupting from various corners of the yard, and popular party music pumping from the deck. I zipped up my long-sleeved, black hoodie and crept around back. I stepped out onto the deck, dim in the porch light, and surveyed the yard. All of Kacey's girlfriends were either in the pool or mingling in small groups around the food table. Her parents, aunts, and uncles were convened around a picnic table in the grass and the dj was up on the deck. This was going to be a long night.

After conversation with her family became strained, I grabbed a soda and discretely wedged myself into a patio chair by the door where the dj was. I'd heaped a plate full of food just so I could look inconspicuous

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