Gordon did a mean impression of Flip Wilson’s Geraldine.  He did.  I was always a sucker for a guy that could make me laugh. We were in sixth grade together and he was, of course he was, the class clown. He was a bit pudgy, had dark almost black hair, and big brown eyes.  He was taller than me – another trait I like in a romantic partner.  In sixth grade, it was hard come to find a boy my age that was taller than me. 

We were stationed at Camp Lejeune but living in town.  I was at a civilian school made up, primarily, of military brats.  Jacksonville was a very small town with absolutely nothing but 40,000 Marines.  My dad referred to it as the armpit of the world.

I rather liked Jacksonville.  I was 10 almost 11 when we moved there. Gordon wasn’t my first crush, but he was my first kiss.  He must have told the entire class his plan because they were all at the bicycle racks after school.  The whole class.  I was confused by the audience but did manage to get the lock off my bike.  Like Lancelot gleaming in the sun, Gordon appeared.  The crowd parted.  He bent over the bicycle rack from the opposite side and planted one on my lips.

I was shocked. 

Shocked at the first kiss.  Shocked that Gordon was doing it.  And shocked at how soft his lips were. 

I was suddenly shy. I got on my bike and promptly left.

For the life of me, I don’t remember what happened after that.  Evidently nothing.  Perhaps he wasn’t interested after that.  Maybe my reaction bruised his fragile male ego.  I don’t know. 

Maybe it was the last day of school because I have no memory of the aftermath.  None.

I just remember those brown eyes and full lips moving in for a kiss.

I can’t remember his last name and it drives me crazy, but my yearbook is in the very back of the Closet I Am Afraid Of and I am not about to tackle that mess just to learn his last name.

Whatever his name, I shall always remember him fondly.  Not only did I tic first kiss off the list, I got to do it with someone I had a crush on.  It’s a good memory.