My First Kiss Went A Little Like This… P.uke & T.wist

26 Sep

Day 16 of the 90 in 90 blog challenge.

It was the summer leading into my 8th grade year. My braces had just been taken off so I naturally considered myself a slice of pure unadulterated sex, but I should have looked in the mirror. Picture this: awkward gangly body, ears that I still hadn’t fully grown into, and hair that resembled an electrocuted lion head rabbit, only less cute and fluffy.

I was on vacation with my family. We were staying in this hotel near the Mall of America. My sister Caitlyn and I were totally excited. It literally took 3 days to get through all of the shops, and even then you didn’t feel like you were completely done. So we get to our hotel, check in, and we’re about to take the elevator to our room when we pass the pool. I glance in through the window. Then, I do a double take.

Dad: (Overly cheery) Oh, look girls! Prospects!

BOOYYYSSS. Just, so many shirtless teenage boys, running around, doing cannon balls, punching each other’s arms, screaming, drinking Sprite and pretty much just being genuine trolls. I didn’t know what to do. My experience with boys up to this point had been… limited, to say the least. No one had ever kissed me. I don’t think anyone had ever even wanted to kiss me. I looked to my older sister for our next move.

Caitlyn: Carolyn?
Me: Yes?
Caitlyn: I think I’d like to take a quick dip before we go to bed. Don’t you think that would feel nice?
Me: Oh. Oh, yes! Why, I think that would be lovely.
(Our parents roll their eyes.)

Thirty minutes later we were sitting in a hot tub with a tribe of adolescent soccer players. Turns out they were all my age, and my sister felt too old for any of them. Weird, I thought. I’m never the one with this kind of luck. I can’t really tell you anything we talked about. I just remember their acne-kissed faces and how awkward I felt in a bikini around all of these BOOOYYYS. I don’t think I said much, I probably just let Caitlyn do the talking. There was one boy, though, who took a serious liking to me. His name…was P.T.

Yes, dear readers, you read that correctly: P.T. As in pregnant teenager. Or potty trained. Or, “P.T. phone home.” Literally. I guess he was nice, but it was so long ago I barely remember him. However, what I do remember is the next morning, laying in bed completely knocked out, being woken by a KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK on our door. At 6 a.m.

Dad: (muttering from the other bed, very annoyed.) Girls… that certainly is not for me.
Caitlyn: Not for me either.
Me: Mmmrrmrmmm…
Mom: Carolyn. Get the door.
Me: (barely awake) But…Wha-?
Me: Oh! Oh, sorry…

I jump out of bed. I still remember what I was wearing: grey bed pants with a drawstring and a light blue Limited Too tank top with the built in shelf bra. My hair was up in a messy bun. My eyes had been hard at work all night producing two ripe crops of eye boogers. My lips were the definition of “crusty crusts.”And saying I had “Dragon Breath” would have been a generous compliment. So, I’m so embarrassed that my new “friend” is knocking on the door like a maniac, waking my entire family, that I run to the door without even looking in a mirror. I open the door and peek out of the crack. A part of me is hoping it’s a little room service lady that I can just tell to come back later. But I’m not that lucky.

P.T. is standing there, staring at me. I’m standing there, staring at him. We just… look at each other. I specifically remember not saying anything, just looking at him like, “Are you actually being serious right now?” There is literally at least an eight second pause. Then-

P.T:…We’re leaving.

I don’t even know what I did. All I remember is that somehow I got my body outside and shut the door behind me. And then… it happened. It happened without any warning, without any preparation. P.T. the soccer player swooped down and kissed me, tongue first. I actually remember seeing his eyes-closed-tongue-out face looming towards me.

At first I don’t really know what’s happening. Keep in mind 20 seconds ago I was in the middle of a R.E.M cycle.  And suddenly, this random boy who I don’t know at all is swirling his tongue around my morning mouth… at 6 a.m. I wanted to pull away from him. I wanted to slap him across the face. I wanted to run back into my room and slam the door. I wanted to say,  “WOAH! Woah woah woah. Easy, homeboy! Just because I sat next to you in the hot tub last night does NOT mean that you can just swoop in here and make out with me, okay!? I know this may come as a shock to you, given my current appearance, but I’ve never been kissed yet, and I’d like to keep it that way until I meet a boy who I WANT to kiss. Okay!? I mean it’s not even eight o’ clock yet! What are you THINKING!? How do you want me to respond to this right now, huh? Is this how you pictured this going in your little dweeb brain while you walked up here and decided to knock on my family’s hotel room door at SIX AM!?!?! A FIRST KISS IS A BIG DEAL, OKAY P.T!?!?!?! And yeah! P.T. What the HELL kind of a name is that!? What does that even stand for!? Two names with those initials couldn’t POSSIBLY sound good together. Ever. See look, watch: Phil… Trevor. There! Huh, that sound good to you?! Does it???…. Peter Timothy!?! HUH? PAUL TOM? I mean COME ON! Were your parents on CRACK? Look. I’m sure you’re a really nice guy and all, but I don’t even know your favorite color, and your tongue is currently in my mouth. Can we back it up a few steps? And can you just keep backing it on up until you’re all the way down the hall and I never have to look at you again? Okay. Great. Thanks.”

Don’t you ever just look back on these moments and wish you could redo it all over again? But, alas! Sadly, we cannot.

And so, my summer-before-8th-grade self stood in the hotel hallway, barefoot, and waited for P.T. the soccer player to stop raping my mouth with his tongue. My first thought was: This feels funny. My second thought was: This feels strangely wet. And then, my third thought was: I haven’t even brushed my teeth yet. I’m sure this is very enjoyable for him.

And then it stopped. I opened my eyes and he opened his. I looked at him and he looked at the space between my eyebrows.

P.T: Goodbye.

And that was that. He walked back down the hallway, all of the “Do Not Disturb” signs on the doors rippling in his wake.

Shell shocked and terrified, I turned around and put my hand on the doorknob. I was so embarrassed. I felt naked. I felt cold. I had that electric feeling that goes through your limbs when something socially horrifying happens around you and there is absolutely nothing you can do about it. I felt like I had just walked into a glass door in front of the hottest boy in school. I felt like someone had just peed their pants while looking me directly in the eyes without blinking. I felt like someone had just audibly sharted beside me in line for a hot lunch.

And it was this exact moment when I realized I had not thought to grab a room key.

Mortified, I tapped on the door. To my surprise, it opened immediately to reveal my sister smirking at me like an idiot.

Caitlyn: (whispered) Oh yeah!!! Get some…
Me: (whispered) Shut up.
Caitlyn: (whispered) You KISSED him. You KISSED him!
Me: (spoken) CAITLYN! You were watching through the peep hole?!
Me: (whispered) Sorry!

And that was my first kiss. No fireworks. No butterflies. No anything. Just a bra-less, morning breath breathing, slobbery slimy mess with a boy named P.T. standing barefoot in a questionable hotel hallway.

Ten other things that P.T. could have stood for:

1. Poopy Toilet

2. Pathetic Transvestite

3. Putrid Tangerines

4. Penis Tent

5. Pig Torment

6. Penelope Taynt… Amanda’s number one fan, please.

7. Puke Train. All aboard…

8. Plump Trolls

9. Potbelly Tinkerbell

10. Prison Tickles


4 Responses to “My First Kiss Went A Little Like This… P.uke & T.wist”

  1. Kirk Sheppard September 26, 2012 at 11:45 pm #

    More genius. Love it!

  2. Myra Laska-Yinney September 27, 2012 at 12:02 am #

    This is really outstanding writing, you know? I’m just so amazed at how your voice has grown as a writer from your times at T. Morris Central. I even get a little teary-eyed as I sit here eating this last handful of Better Cheddars and grade research papers (Fun, fun….fun.) I had a student ask me today, “What makes you a good writer?” and I stopped and thought and muttered, “No, you must mean, what doesn’t make you a good writer?” and the class proceeded to tell me everything you shouldn’t do when writing. It was an absolutely riveting classroom moment that I will cherish forever. Pretty soon it will be that time again. Are you up for the challenge again or should we just call in Cheryl and Dana? Please take care and keep writing from your heart, mind, and soul. – m l y

    • Carolyn September 27, 2012 at 12:36 am #


      Unfortunately I think you have the wrong person… But I am honored that you enjoy reading my writing! I’ve never thought about writing like that before: “What DOESN’T make you a good writer.” What a wonderful question to ponder. I wish I could have been in your class! Even though I never went to T. Morris Central, I hope you will continue to check in on the Smitten Written Kitten from time to time. And considering I have no idea what you’re talking about, you probably SHOULD call in Cheryl and Dana haha! Thank you for taking the time to comment 🙂


  3. laura p September 27, 2012 at 3:42 pm #

    This story was so-so.

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