Since I was 5 years old, I had wanted one thing: to be kissed. My friends and I would sit around the playground and obsess over what my first kiss would be like, who it would be with and most importantly when it would happen! Lots of little girls get their first smooch under the monkey bars, but not me.

Fine, I thought, I’ll get my first kiss in middle school. Um wrong. Even though I had a boyfriend we were so awkward and nervous around each other that we barely held hands. The thought of kissing sent him into an absolute panic. It was about this time that complete, white-knuckled anxiety over not being kissed began to set in. Every single one of my friends had successfully arrived in Make Out Town and here I was, stuck in Sweaty Hand City.

And I would remain stuck there for a long, long, long time. Five more agonizing years, to be exact. Yes, I didn’t kiss anyone until I was almost 18.

No, I didn’t have a peg leg or hunchback or headgear or whatever else could have made me so unkissable during my teen years. I was basically the same as I am now. No braces or orthopedic shoes. Just good old-fashioned shyness. While I desperately wanted to be kissed, the thought was overwhelming! Still though, I was starting to feel like the last girl on planet Earth who hadn’t made out. I pictured my post-Frenching life as being totally different—I’d suddenly be infused with this cool confidence, gliding through high school life with ease and skill.

Then, FINALLY, on Junior Prom night, it happened: my first kiss!! And it was . . . well, pretty awful, actually. It was the result of a rigged spin the bottle—yes, this is how goody-goody my group of friends were; we played spin the friggin’ bottle after prom. And we were the popular kids—I’d just won Junior Prom Queen! My friends decided that my date and I were destined to be together and basically forced us into a closet to make out. It was sloppy and awkward and totally affectionless. It felt more like he was looking for winning lotto numbers in my mouth than actually kissing me.

Afterwards, I went home and burst into tears. Was this seriously what I’d waited for? Ugh! But then, I started to laugh. My mom probably thought I was having a psychotic break, weeping and laughing in a tiara and fancy dress. I realized how completely ridiculous my kissing stress had been—who really cared when I got my first smooch? No one! And life wasn’t better at all now that I’d done it. It was the same—I was the same.

Looking back, I was so crazy anxious about my first kiss for nothing. I had put so much pressure on my first lip-lock that it was doomed to disappoint. I wish I hadn’t stressed about it to the point that I wasn’t even enjoying hanging out with guys or living in the moment on first dates. KISS KISS KISS was all my mind could focus on. Plus, what I know now is that lots of girls don’t get kissed until they’re 18, or even older!

The lesson here, girls (besides the fact that spin-the-bottle can be hazardous to your mental health!) is that obsessing over anything—good or bad—will make you miss out on the moments happening right in front of you. I mean, holding hands is actually pretty fun, now that I think about it!

Are you still waiting for your first kiss? Or how old were you when you first smooched somebody? Tell me everything in the comments!

Want To Hear About This Girl’s Hilarious First Make Out? YES You Do!

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