My first real kiss occurred in 7th grade. I say "real" because a decade earlier, my parents were friends with neighbors who had a girl a year younger than me. The adults were forever posing us kissing each other (on the cheek) and taking pictures.
The kiss in 7th grade was my first hormone-driven one. I can't remember how, but somehow I ended up double dating with the girl I had a super crush on, and another couple. We went to the movies, which were then downtown. I don't remember what was playing.
Om our way home, I kissed my date. Nothing spectacular, more like a peck, but it was my first. I was so elated, I literally felt like I was walking on Cloud 9 on my home. There was a smile a mile wide plastered on my face. I walked home thinking about the girl I'd just kissed. It was pretty damned nice.
When I arrived home, I came upon a scene wherein my mother was in her bedclothes, passed out on the living room floor. She was surround by a mess of pills I didn't recognize.
My dad was passed out at the kitchen table.
My mother wouldn't rouse and trying to wake up my father and getting some straight answers from him was almost impossible. Not knowing what had gone down beforehand, I did the only thing I could do: I called for an ambulance. They arrived and took mother to the ER where they pimped out her stomach.
The pills were some sort of over the counter diet pills. They didn't think she had ingested enough to harm herself and that her lethargy was due mostly to alcohol. They pumped out her stomach as a precaution.
The next day, my mom returned home with a friend from work. Mom was smoking, I had never seen her do that before.
That's the story of my first kiss.