My previous post was a mish-mash of fantasy and reality about impressions from my first love experience. That post got me thinking even farther back; way, way back to my first kiss when I was at the tender age of five. And this will be blatant reality. I will even use his real name even though I never use real names in my posts. I will use his name because, first of all, I can’t imagine he would ever stumble upon this blog because our encounters were fleeting, so long ago, and he probably doesn’t even remember my name. Yes, you guessed it; this is a case of unrequited love. The second reason I will use his name is because it had such a sing-song quality to me at the time. The mere mention of his name would instantly result in nervously excited stomach churnings. Are you ready? For his name? Here it is: Donny McGee. There. I said it after all of this time. He is not to be confused with Janis Joplin’s Bobby McGee. He was my Donny McGee, or so I wished anyway. He had dirty-blonde hair, lots of freckles and a big shy smile sans front teeth. Positively a Dreamboat. He lived next door to me when we lived in New Jersey and we spent many hours making mud-pies and playing on his colorful metal swing set. It was usually a group venture, however. I had a brother and sister of similar age, and so did he. His three year old sister actually bit my three year old brother on the nose once while we were playing, but that is another story.
Apparently, I was somehow able to get my shy boy alone and give him a big smoochie. I say apparently because this actual momentous event has somehow been stricken from my memory. Is that fair? Fie on my memory! It is hand wringing how our memories wrap around useless or undesirable events that we want to forget and turn up blank on other ones that we would like to remember. How do I know that it really happened, you ask? The event that I vividly remember is that my beloved Donny McGee knocked on my door and asked to speak to my parents. While I stood by pining for him he told my parents that his parents said that I had to apologize for kissing him. What?! That’s a Love Speed-bump if I ever heard one. I was properly crushed and diverted from my amorous path. Thus ended my infatuation with Donny McGee and my apparently forgettable first kiss. I will have to add that consecutive kisses to other recipients were much more appreciated. Ah well, it is rare that we do things right the first time. I wish you well and good kisses wherever you may be Donny McGee.