“You have to kiss a lot of frogs before you’ll find your prince.” That’s what a friend of the family used to tell me when I was a teenager. Here I am some 15 years later, and I’ve made my way through quite a large number of frogs. Yet I keep going back for more in hopes of finding that prince of mine. We’re raised to believe that that there’s someone out there waiting for us. Scratch that, not someone, but THE ONE. Our better half. Our soul mate. But how do you know when you’ve found him or her? There are some people that believe that you just know when you’ve found THE ONE. You will feel it! The the planets to align, the Heavens to open up, the angels to sing, the seas to part.
There has only been one person (so far) that I thought was THE ONE. He was it, I was certain of it. I dated Mr. Big X for nearly 2 years. He’s the one that I would describe as THE ex. He’s the one that set the standard, the one that each new potential beau is compared to. I thought we would end up married. I thought he was the father of my children. Alas, things didn’t quite work out as I had anticipated. Perhaps I should have known from that first kiss how things would wind up.
By the time the first kiss came along, we had known each other for about 18 months, and I had been crushing on him for about 18 months. I would pine away for him and clutch my pillow at night pretending it was him. I’d find stupid reasons to walk past his desk during the day at work. We would hang out at happy hour and I would flirt with him. I guess sometimes he’d flirt back with me, but I could never tell if he was being nice to me or if he was interested. I clearly remember one occasion when we were out at a bar, and there were 4 of us talking about hot female celebrities. His friend had mentioned some young starlet with a rocking hot body. Mr. Big X turned to me and said, “I don’t care for those girls. They’re too skinny. I like full figured girls.” I had to walk away because all I could thing to myself was, “He just called me fat.”
On the fateful day of our first kiss, we found ourselves with my sister and a friend on a boat enjoying the fine summer day. The day had been perfect! We had spent the day flirting with one another and I had a feeling that he might ask me out. When he drove me home that night, and asked if he could come up to my apartment, I was positive that he just needed to use the bathroom. Once upstairs, something changed. Gone was his cool confidence-in its place was some kind of false charm. It’s kind of difficult to describe. Kind of like when you first meet someone and they seem very nice, then the second they find out that you’re in the market for a car, they suddenly transform into the stereotypical cheesy car salesman. That’s what it was like with him. He fed me cheesy lines like: “You’re such a great girl,” and “You’d be so fun to date.” I half expected him to pull out a chart showing a graph of the features and benefits of dating him. After about 15 minutes of him feeding me cheesy lines, he asked me out. Without making a scene, or wetting myself from sheer excitement, I said yes. I’m happy to say that he didn’t notice my voice shaking; at least I’m pretty sure he didn’t.
He then placed his right hand on my left thigh and asked, “Can I kiss you?” He tried to make this sound natural, but it came across as so awkward. Who the hell asks that question these days? I struggled to control my eyes from rolling. ”Sure,” I answered casually. I didn’t know what to do; he was sitting kind of far away from me. In my experience, when I was about to kiss someone, our faces were already near one another’s – not 2 feet apart. I leaned down and placed my glasses on the table, not knowing whether I should move closer to him or wait for him to close the 2 feet of distance between us. When I straightened up, he began moving his face towards mine. In the 5 seconds it took for him to bring his lips to mine, I remember feeling so nervous, and not knowing where to look or if I should just close my eyes.
I was expecting fireworks. I was expecting trumpets. I was expecting the planets to align, the Heavens to open up, the angels to sing, the seas to part. Instead, I got a wah wah wah. The kiss was not what I had imagined – what I had hoped for. BAM! Our lips met and he was suddenly darting his tongue in and out of my mouth like a snake. He was moving it in and out so quickly that I started to get nauseated. I backed away for a second to see if I could somehow get him to take it easy, or to try to kill his little snake imitation. No such luck. He grabbed the back of my head, and proceeded to shove his tongue half way down my throat. I’m surprised I didn’t choke and die right then and there.
Next thing I knew I was on my back, he was climbing on top of me, and he had 8 hands – 2 of which were up my shirt as I struggled for breath. I managed to wedge both my hands between us and shove him off of me. Unfortunately, I shoved a little too hard and he ended up falling off the couch, and smacking his head on the table. He managed to stay conscious and I managed to keep his tongue out of my throat for the rest of the evening. I considered backing out of the date, until I went to work the following day. There was a single white rose on my desk and a note from Mr. Big X. And that was the beginning of our relationship. A relationship that ended in tears and 2 broken hearts.
To this day I wonder if I should have known from that first kiss that he was actually a snake. Can a first kiss tell you whether the journey you’re about to embark on is something significant or just a booty call? Can it tell you if the person you’re with is THE ONE or just someone?