A Birthday, A Funeral and Snogging

In six days I will celebrate my 41st birthday. That number, while a fact, sounds odd to me. I will officially be on the flip side of forty. In an effort to think young thoughts and keep a white-knuckled grip on my fleeting youth I have decided to read some young adult fiction. I heard about the Confessions of Georgia Nicolson series through Goodreads and thought it would be a lighthearted break from all the WWII I've been reading lately.

Annelise and I stopped by the library Saturday afternoon hoping to check out their book sale. As it turned out, we were thirty minutes too late for the sale. However, we made the best of it. In a perfect library moment I found the (almost) complete Georgia Nicholson series and compulsively grabbed all nine books. I know, I have a disease.

Today I started the first book, Angus, Thongs and Full-Frontal Snogging and was immediately captivated by the dry humor (British), teen angst and the fact it's written as diary entries. Apparently, snogging is the British term for kissing and fourteen year old Georgia spends a lot of time wondering when she will have her first kiss. Or snog. If ever, even.

I remember that feeling.

I also remember my first snog. Or kiss.

I was thirteen and it was after my grandmother's funeral.

Is that inappropriate?

Anyway. His name was David and he was a cowboy. An 8th grade cowboy if you can imagine. I met him at a church we visited while on a camping trip with my grandparents. We wrote letters and saw each other a few times (not dates really, always with his parents or mine or my grandparents). He fancied himself to be a bull rider (I know) and I even went to see him (with a friend and his parents) once or twice at little piddly rodeos.

But. He had never kissed me.

Were you like me? Curious and completely clueless how kisses were supposed to work? Where did your noses go? Do you close your eyes? Open mouth or closed? What on earth about tongues? It was all too much to worry about. Did you practice on your hand or kiss your mirror? Didja, huh, didja?

What can I say, I wanted to be as prepared as possible.

Then, suddenly, my grandmother died. The Cowboy and his dad went to my grandmother's funeral and came back to the house for lunch with family and friends. As he was getting ready to leave everything started to move in slow motion. Somehow I was standing in the room alone when he came back inside to get his cowboy hat. I know. In something of a blur, he put his arm around me and leaned in to give me a smooch. Maybe two. Then we mumbled goodbye and he left.

That was that. My first snogging session lasted approximately 3 seconds.

But I still remember it. I also remember being slightly shocked and embarrassed and then happy all at the same time.

In a thirteen year old sort of way.

Do you remember your first snog? Do tell...


  1. I remember how embarrassing it was! My hair got stuck in his glasses!! Can you imagine how horrible that was for a first kiss mishap? Ahhh!!

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  3. Summer of '87...I'll have to tell you about it over coffee...hahaha!

  4. Snogging sounds much more scandalous than just kissing...oh those Brits.

    My first kiss was in the hallway at school in 8th grade. I had my first real boyfriend and was totally clueless. Our kisses were like the kind you'd give your dad before bed! Ew! We didn't last very long because he was more advanced than I was and I was not ready for make-out parties and all of that.

    It was boyfriend #2 in 9th grade that really taught me the ropes. We put in a whole lot of time snogging!

  5. Jill: You are right! Snogging does sound so much more scandalous than smooching.

    Heather: Can't wait! :)

    Becca: Oh no! Hair caught in glasses?? At least there weren't braces involved, right?


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