Switch!

The first time I kissed a girl we were on the inside of a dark garage. I was six, and she was 12. People don’t believe me when I tell the story, but it’s true. Before I turned seven and we moved to the other side of town, we lived in a complex of townhomes that were called Quads--four small attached units. The neighborhood was filled with kids, and we were always getting into trouble, playing Ding Dong Ditch or making prank phone calls to annoy the grown-ups.


We also did things we would never dare tell our parents like stealing our fathers’ Playboy magazines, or playing Strip Poker and Spin the Bottle. The funny thing about our games was there was only one girl in the neighborhood, and she was usually the aggressor. Her name was Paula Klokashar, and she turned all the boys into men just from the attention she would easily distribute.


The day Paula decided it was my turn was when we were playing in her parents’ garage. Someone came up with the idea that we would set-up different stations and at each station a different game would be played. At one station, we played card games like War, and Five Card Stud. Another station had Truth or Dare. The station that every boy wanted to be at was the one where you got to hang out with Paula. You could do anything she let you, which for some guys was nothing but sitting there quietly with her, waiting until she yelled “Switch!”


When it was my turn to be with her, I didn’t know what to expect. At first, we sat in silence, watching the other boys carry on. After a few minutes, Paula grabbed my hand and held it softly. I was nervous and thought she could hear my heart pounding. With her other hand, Paula started stroking my left leg, and it was the first time I remember getting excited. I don’t recall how we went from innocent petting to full blown making out, but I do remember that her tongue tasted like sour apple Jolly Rancher candy. Paula was a great teacher, and her lips were soft and tender.


Nowadays, people would consider what happened child abuse--taking away a young boy’s innocence. When my father found out what Paula did because my brothers insisted on teasing me that night at dinner, he was more proud than angry. As long as the kissing was with a girl, my father didn’t care how old I was.


When Paula’s parents heard about the game, she wasn’t allowed to play with us anymore. Her family moved to California shortly thereafter, and I never got to thank her.