"First Kiss or First Miss?" Submission #19

I guess Joni and I began to do all the things required of junior high couples… we doodled each other’s names on our notebooks and the covers on our books (brown paper sacks from the grocery store… cut, folded and fitted around the book… a lost art), we smiled awkwardly at each other when our eyes accidently met in class or as we were walking in the hallways… but most important of all, we sat by each other at the high school sporting events, flanked by our respective entourages. Having these posses with us was crucial because they created just enough distraction to dilute the tension that would have been created had we been alone and forced to actually converse.

795-2108… that was her phone number. Sometimes I would sit and stare at the phone for long periods of time… trying to gather the courage to dial those numbers. More times than not… I’d talk myself out of it.

As with the entourage aspect… I again needed some sort of a distraction in order to aid me in making that call. Was that just me? Was I so lacking in game that I had to resort to such childish antics or was that par for the course at age 12? I always felt that it was just me.

Anyway… so, I had a tape recorder, a modern marvel of American technology and innovation. I loved listening to the radio and when a good song came on, I’d hit the “record” button to capture the recording of my favorite songs. It was the iTunes of the day minus the cost… and the quality.

Those recordings began to be my method of breaking the ice when I called my girlfriend. She’d answer the phone and I’d hit the “play” button. Within a few seconds, I’d stop the music and ask her if she knew the title of the song. It was our own, personal “Name That Tune” game. We had fun with it. We have actually talked and laughed about it in recent years… some 40+ years later.

I spent the night with Mac Cowles one Friday night, shortly after Joni and I had become an “item.” As was typical, Mac and I stayed up half the night talking about all sorts of things but… primarily… girls! Eventually, the conversation led to the inevitable question: “When are you going to kiss her, Muns?”

Trust me, I had asked myself that question almost from the minute this budding relationship began. But remember… I was the smooth operator that couldn't even hand her a ring… how in the world was I going to muster the courage to plant a wet one on her? But… I HAD to do it now. Mac’s question had morphed into a personal challenge.

My plan began to unfold. The next Friday, the high school basketball team had an away game. The school provided a “pep bus” as transportation for students to travel to the game. I had confirmed that Joni was planning to go and of course we would sit by each on the bus and at the game. Junior high relationship law. After we got back… I would walk her home… and then I would do it… I would kiss her goodnight.

Wait. How exactly do you kiss? I mean, I kissed my mom on the cheek occasionally but I was certain that this kiss had to differ greatly from that!

So, I practiced on the mirror. There… I said it. You probably did too… so stop judging me.

Friday night arrived. To say I was nervous was an understatement. Per protocol, I’d lined up a wingman for the event… Scott Lombardi… or “Squealer” as he had affectionately become known. He earned the nickname because of an extra-long transition period between his “boy voice” and his “man voice.” Sort of a Peter Brady syndrome.

We traveled to the game that night and, of course, I couldn't concentrate on the game. On the ride home, I had concluded that I needed to abort the operation. Call it off. Pull the plug. When I communicated my newly changed plans to Scott… he wouldn't let me even think about backing out now. He was not going to miss out on this ground breaking event.

The bus pulled up to the “bus barn” at the corner of 1^st and Main, across the street from the school. Joni lived about a half block away. That short walk did not supply me adequate time to calm my nerves. I walked about as slow as a kid could walk. Scott walked on ahead, giving me my space, but frequently whipping his head around, determined not to miss the fireworks.

We reached her house and then stood there… awkwardly… for what seemed to be an eternity. I think she sensed what was coming and was probably, secretly amused.

It was cold outside and not conducive for long good-byes. Scott was about a half block up the road with his hands thrust deeply in his pockets as he hopped up and down… trying to stay warm. He was running out of patience. I think Joni was running out of patience also.

“Well, I gotta go. Bye.” She said as she turned to walk toward her front door.

For a brief moment, I was disappointed and relieved at the same time. But before I could walk away, Squealer’s high pitched voice pierced the darkness. “C’mon Munson! Aren’t you going to kiss her? You can’t back out now!”

Joni stopped and turned around before she opened her door and I thought, “It’s now or never.”

I dashed up her walkway, forgetting about technique and all of the practicing on the mirror. I put one arm around her and awkwardly gave her a quick peck. I honestly aimed for the lips but in my haste, I’m pretty sure I got mostly chin.

I did it! I didn’t do it well… but I did it! I kissed Joni Dalton. As far as anyone else knew… I turned her legs to jelly… at least, that’s what I wanted to think.

Our romantic relationship lasted a good eight… or nine… basketball games. In real time, that’s maybe two months.

Despite my suave and debonair ways… she left me for an older man… a WAY older man. Tim
Wisecup was in high school for goodness sakes! He was just toying with her. Of course, they would never, ever last.

They’re still together today and are perfect for each other. They live life to the fullest and always find a way to still be kids at heart. I didn't really know Tim back then, I just considered him a thief. Today, I consider him a friend.

Ha ha... my first kiss...