I wrote this story because I just spent last week pouring over a large section of my journal and I thought I had remembered every minute of this night...and I didn't.
I was barely sixteen. It was summer. My friend was turning seventeen soon. We were sitting at a bagel place in south Provo being kindly lectured by our other two friends. We were going to get in serious trouble someday if we didn't stop finding random guys to kiss and date or just kiss, they said. We nodded and stared dreamily out the window. At that moment, a white Jeep pulled up to the light just outside the window, right in front of my friend and I. There were two really hot guys in the Jeep. Driving around without their shirts on. They saw us, looked over, smiled, and we smiled back. Whoa, did we smile back...and giggled a bit. They turned the corner still craning their necks to see us. So my friend and I did what any pair of normal teenage girls would do--we ran outside and stood on the street and watched them drive away...much to the annoyance of our friends who had just discovered that we were hopeless. Moments later, those two guys came back around the block. They pulled up to the same light, slowed down, and as we stood there pretending to not be 16, they asked us if we wanted to go for a ride. We agreed without looking at each other and while waving goodbye to our friends in the window.
We climbed in the back as they drove away and set off to make introductions. The passenger, the blonde one, I claimed. The driver, claimed my friend. He asked me what my name was, and I held out my pinky, as the rest of my hand was covered in cinnamon bagel. "Sticky," I said. He laughed and his blue eyes sparkled. "Nice to meet you Sticky. Are you legal?" I shook my head as if to say no, though time will tell you that he swore I had said yes. "I'm Craig," he said as I tried to keep my eyes on his face rather than let them travel down the perfectness that was his shirtless self.
We drove around for a while and then they took us back to the bagel shop. I was on Cloud 9. At some point they had arranged for a double date and we whole-heartedly agreed. They picked us up a couple of days later and as we drove, my friend and her date teased Craig and I relentlessly about kissing. He had just returned from serving a two-year mission for the LDS church in Japan, and had gone that long without kissing a girl. He was 21. I was 16. I had only kissed one other person and I was still nervous about that whole situation. I had pretty solid ideas about how I wanted to be kissed and really needed him to fit into that mold. We scooted closer in the back seat and he grabbed my hand.
The friendly jibes about an 80's band that wore lots of makeup, came from the front seats. My friend suggested that we drive by this park...you know, the PERFECT setting for a first kiss. Ah, we were so young. While my friend and her date chatted away in the front, Craig turned to look me in the eyes. My heart was pounding. He squeezed my hand. He leaned closer and his lips touched mine, ever so slightly. He pulled away slightly and left his forehead touching mine, "America the Beautiful," he whispered. I was still reeling as I SWORE there really were fireworks. It became our little secret...our friends hadn't known. We stopped at the park and they got out to walk around. I couldn't move. My stomach was doing flip-flops and my knees, if I could have stood up, would have left me in a jello heap on the ground.
We sat in the car, both nervous and excited, and kissed gently. We'd talk for a bit then he'd kiss me again. The rest of the night is a blur, but his kisses were the standard by which all kisses from thenceforth were measured.
I wish that were the end of the story. It would have made the next two years much less emotional. Much easier to handle. Craig was my first love and held that place among all others that came and went until the time came where we could actually date...as two adults. It was for him that I wrote my first love song. It was his name that littered the pages of my journal for years. It was his heart I broke when it was decided that we could not be together. It was Craig that left me questioning the very foundations of my faith when that decision was made. It was Craig who crept into my thoughts for years after we had said goodbye, and Craig whom I called when life found me single again. It was Craig who reminded me, years later, how a woman should be kissed. And it IS Craig who I will always pray for and hope that life finds him happy and well.
I was barely sixteen. It was summer. My friend was turning seventeen soon. We were sitting at a bagel place in south Provo being kindly lectured by our other two friends. We were going to get in serious trouble someday if we didn't stop finding random guys to kiss and date or just kiss, they said. We nodded and stared dreamily out the window. At that moment, a white Jeep pulled up to the light just outside the window, right in front of my friend and I. There were two really hot guys in the Jeep. Driving around without their shirts on. They saw us, looked over, smiled, and we smiled back. Whoa, did we smile back...and giggled a bit. They turned the corner still craning their necks to see us. So my friend and I did what any pair of normal teenage girls would do--we ran outside and stood on the street and watched them drive away...much to the annoyance of our friends who had just discovered that we were hopeless. Moments later, those two guys came back around the block. They pulled up to the same light, slowed down, and as we stood there pretending to not be 16, they asked us if we wanted to go for a ride. We agreed without looking at each other and while waving goodbye to our friends in the window.
We climbed in the back as they drove away and set off to make introductions. The passenger, the blonde one, I claimed. The driver, claimed my friend. He asked me what my name was, and I held out my pinky, as the rest of my hand was covered in cinnamon bagel. "Sticky," I said. He laughed and his blue eyes sparkled. "Nice to meet you Sticky. Are you legal?" I shook my head as if to say no, though time will tell you that he swore I had said yes. "I'm Craig," he said as I tried to keep my eyes on his face rather than let them travel down the perfectness that was his shirtless self.
We drove around for a while and then they took us back to the bagel shop. I was on Cloud 9. At some point they had arranged for a double date and we whole-heartedly agreed. They picked us up a couple of days later and as we drove, my friend and her date teased Craig and I relentlessly about kissing. He had just returned from serving a two-year mission for the LDS church in Japan, and had gone that long without kissing a girl. He was 21. I was 16. I had only kissed one other person and I was still nervous about that whole situation. I had pretty solid ideas about how I wanted to be kissed and really needed him to fit into that mold. We scooted closer in the back seat and he grabbed my hand.
The friendly jibes about an 80's band that wore lots of makeup, came from the front seats. My friend suggested that we drive by this park...you know, the PERFECT setting for a first kiss. Ah, we were so young. While my friend and her date chatted away in the front, Craig turned to look me in the eyes. My heart was pounding. He squeezed my hand. He leaned closer and his lips touched mine, ever so slightly. He pulled away slightly and left his forehead touching mine, "America the Beautiful," he whispered. I was still reeling as I SWORE there really were fireworks. It became our little secret...our friends hadn't known. We stopped at the park and they got out to walk around. I couldn't move. My stomach was doing flip-flops and my knees, if I could have stood up, would have left me in a jello heap on the ground.
We sat in the car, both nervous and excited, and kissed gently. We'd talk for a bit then he'd kiss me again. The rest of the night is a blur, but his kisses were the standard by which all kisses from thenceforth were measured.
I wish that were the end of the story. It would have made the next two years much less emotional. Much easier to handle. Craig was my first love and held that place among all others that came and went until the time came where we could actually date...as two adults. It was for him that I wrote my first love song. It was his name that littered the pages of my journal for years. It was his heart I broke when it was decided that we could not be together. It was Craig that left me questioning the very foundations of my faith when that decision was made. It was Craig who crept into my thoughts for years after we had said goodbye, and Craig whom I called when life found me single again. It was Craig who reminded me, years later, how a woman should be kissed. And it IS Craig who I will always pray for and hope that life finds him happy and well.
2 comments:
Wow, what a story!
Craig is a name I know well, but I'd never actually heard the story (I must have been on my mission at the time?) WOW! Fantastic soapiness!!
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