My First Kiss

His name was Roger S.  His father was the Minister of the church which I attended so it was inevitable that Roger and I would be thrown together quite a bit.  He was two years older than me and I would have been about twelve when we first met.  He was tall with dark blonde hair and he was quiet and shy.  So was I.  Roger had lost an eye in an horrific accident that happened, of all places, in the classroom of his school.  It did not notice except for a scar that ran through his eyebrow and raised it more than the other one.

At first we paid little attention to each other.  I attended service twice daily and he was always there.  Occasionally I would get a little smile from him which I would coyly return.

I got more and more involved in church activities.  I became a Girl Guide (I even remember I was in Swallow patrol, all the patrols were named after birds) so that meant church parade every Sunday morning. I usually carried the flag.  Roger was in the Boys Brigade and played in the band which accompanied our march through the streets.  Gradually we got chatting and both of us started to emerge from our shells.

The church started a drama group and I joined and so did he.  I cannot remember the plays we performed after all these years but if a young couple was needed, then it was always Roger and I.  At Christmas we decorated the church tree together and we both sang in the choir.

One day he invited me to tea at his house.  I was very nervous, after all his father was the minister.  I really enjoyed it and asked my parents if Roger could come to our house. They were delighted.  This was the perfect friend for their "little girl" and obviously could be trusted one hundred percent.

So, Roger and I met on a regular basis, he would walk me home from any church activity and we would spend ages by the garden gate talking.  Sometimes we strolled in the park shyly holding hands.  We felt so adult, lost in a little world of our own.  He would take me to the cinema and we wouldamble home talking about our hopes and dreams for the future.

One night, after reaching my front gate, he seemed nervous.  I could not understand it, both of us had grown in confidence so it was not like him.  Suddenly his arms went around me and he planted a kiss on my lips, my first ever proper kiss.  A little thrill went through me and a little fear at what my parents or his parents would say if they knew.  I can recall the feeling so vividly right to this very moment.

I felt like I floated into the house.  I was a woman, yes that was it - I felt like a woman, someone other than a relative had kissed me and properly - on the lips.

We were so young but even then it seemed Roger had our future planned together.  He told me he loved me and always would.  But times were changing, this was a new era, this was the coming of Rock n' Roll, Bill Hailey and the Comets and Elvis Presley - Oh Elvis Presley.  When he became known over here, the older generation were horrified just as they were in the States.  The youth were all going to be corrupted.  Roger's father did not have a good word to say about this new trend and made his views clear from the pulpit.  But I loved the music, it awakened something in me.  I wanted to be part of this new revolution.

Of course, it spelled the end for Roger and I.  I still went to church but I was changing.  I wanted excitement. Roger seemed staid and boring, Roger seemed stuck in a time warp, he did not seem to want to move on.

I had heard of another church that ran dances in its hall and I decided to go along with a friend from school. We were so out of place in our prim little dresses and we got a few sneering looks, but as I saw all those young people jiving,  literally throwing themselves into life, I knew this was for me.  I implored my mother to get me the appropriate clothes.  She had been a great dancer herself so she could hardly refuse.  After all, I did not take after her in any other way so she saw this as an opportunity to encourage me to replicate her just a little.

The outfit I choose was red, bright flaming red. A fullcircular skirt in red felt with a matching shirt-blouse and black bootlace tie.  I could not wait to wear it but the next dance was on the coming Tuesday and we had the weekend to get through first.  I had to wear that outfit, I just had to. So I did and of all places, I wore it to church.

When I walked in it was like a scene from "Jezebel" starring Bette Davies.  You could have heard a pin drop. There was the rest of the congregation in their sombre suits, the ladies in simple floral dresses with neat hats, the youngsters all carbon copies of their parents.  Then in walked I, like a burning beacon.  Roger never spoke to me again.  He turned his back and ignored me. To him I must have seemed a fallen woman. He did not want the things that I wanted, he was happy with a quiet, ordered life.

It had been a great friendship, innocent yet loving. He was the first person to make me feel that I was also a person in my own right.  And he gave me my very first kiss.  I shall never forget it.

I was very sad for a while but then I met a flame-haired Irish whirlwind and I soon forgot my heartache over Roger.  But that, dear readers, is another story.