Saturday, September 19, 2009

A Brief Romantic History

Mr. Kitty

My first love was Mr. Kitty.

Mr. Kitty was a rattle with a plush cat's head on it.  He had no body.  Just a head.  Mr. Kitty may have greatly misinformed my infantile brain about the proper anatomy of living creatures.  Maybe Mr. Kitty is at the root of why I've never been a body girl.  I like faces.


My second love was Richard.  Richard was the middle-aged man that lived next door with his aging mother.  I followed Richard around like a puppy.   I would just show up in his house, unannounced, and watch him from the hallway until he noticed me and took me home.   One time I stole his cat and kept it in my closet for two days before my parents found it.  I don't know why I did it.  It seemed like a good idea...

Note: I often wonder about how my experience with Mr. Kitty might have influenced my subconscious to want to steal Richard's cat.

Ryan (and french kissing)

Shortly after Richard and just before my 4th birthday, I experienced my first kiss.  Ryan was a full year older than me.  He was the son of my dad's best friend.  Our families went camping at Lake Tahoe together one spring.  Ryan and I were in the middle of playing "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles" (I always had to be stupid April because I was a girl - Ryan got to be all the turtles simultaneously) when Ryan suddenly stopped fighting Splinter and said "Do you want to french kiss?"

I didn't know what that was or how it could potentially affect my immediate future, so I said "Okay."

Ryan moved in slowly, hand gently cradling the small of my back, craning his neck to the side and...

...began chewing on my lower lip with ferocity.

It hurt.

I pushed Ryan to the ground, began crying and ran to my mom.

When she asked what happened, I told her that I french kissed Ryan and it hurt.

My poor mother.


After Ryan, I went through a long dry spell before I met Nicholas.  I don't know if I loved Nicholas, but Nicholas was the first guy to ever see my hoohoo.  Not like that...

Nicholas told me that he and his friends played a fun game called "sword fights"where you pee into the toilet at the same time and cross streams.  He asked me if I wanted to sword-fight.  I said "sure."

That day left us both confused.

We went into the bathroom together.  I sat down on the toilet.  He said "no, no, no - we aren't going number two!"

I failed to understand the distinction.

He grabbed me under my armpits and hoisted me off the toilet, moving me aside so that he could show me how to do it right.

I watched Nicholas pee.

I tried to pee like Nicholas.

I made a mess.

Nicholas reprimanded me for "missing the dartboard" (probably a term his mother used).

I cried and ran to my mom, who had to explain the difference between boys and girls and why I wasn't a failure for not being able to pee like Nicholas.

Boyfriend (and others)

After Nicholas, I grew up, dated some dudes and eventually met Boyfriend.

The End.

(I'll post the unabridged version [the one that includes age 6 through Boyfriend] if you guys really want me to, but it's kind of long [not "tramp" long, but "encompassing many years" long) and I didn't want to launch into a soliloquy about my past without warning you or testing the waters to see if that is something you'd be interested in.)

Febriana Febriana

About Febriana Febriana

Author Description here.. Nulla sagittis convallis. Curabitur consequat. Quisque metus enim, venenatis fermentum, mollis in, porta et, nibh. Duis vulputate elit in elit. Mauris dictum libero id justo.