At Seventeen...

My first real kiss (past the cutesy junior high pecks that's we're all familiar with) was when I was 17 or 18 years old. A decade on with my life since that point, the exact day and time is fuzzy, but I remember how that kiss made me feel. It was maybe the most beautiful I've ever felt in my life. Regardless of how my relationship ended with the guy I kissed (by relationship, I mean interactions, because my acquaintance with him lasted maybe two weeks), I'll never forget it.

I was at a friend's party. I'd never met this guy before that night. He was there with his older brother and from the moment he spoke to me, I felt like I was the only girl in the entire world. He was attentive, funny, interesting, and, though my mother would disappointed to hear it, he was a bit of a bad boy with a piercing in his chin and he smoked.

Later on in the night, I was sitting on the back porch with this guy and his brother just chatting while they both shared a smoke. He was wearing a Trapper Hat; the old Elmer Fudd style hat, red plaid pattern and all. Being 17, my flirting consisted on giggling at everything he said and stealing his hat to model it for him. I grabbed it off his head, plunked it down on my own and sent him a coy little grin. Words I'll remember until I die:

"You look beautiful, you know that."

It's a simple statement. It's not even a great pick-up line. But it was the first time any guy had ever told me I was beautiful. Me. Beautiful. Seventeen is an awful age to be a girl and for someone to think I was beautiful at that age was the world to me.

Later that night, cuddling on my friend's couch as we all tried to fall asleep, he gently lifted my chin up so I was face to face with him, and he kissed me. Deeply. It was amazing.

As I alluded to, it didn't end well with him. Looking back, he wasn't a great guy. He wasn't actually all that funny, really wasn't all that attentive, and definitely wasn't interesting. He was also a great big mooch and tried to get me to give him a pretty hefty amount of cash to help him get back to Ontario. Bad boys are not worth it. They never are. If you think you want a bad boy, set up some red, blaring alarms and walk away. They're never good news.

But now that I'm 28 years old, I can separate the experience from the whole story and recognize that that first, real kiss, was pretty magical for me, and a memory I'll cherish for my life.

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It didn't really occur to me until I sat down an wrote this how much this memory reminds me of one of my favourite Jann Arden songs (originally written and performed by Janis Ian). This post was originally titled, "Trapper Hats". But then I wrote it, and this title made more sense. I've included Ms. Arden's version of the song below for your listening pleasure.

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This post is a part of my 30 Days of Writing Challenge. In an attempt to make writing a habit, I'm challenging myself to writing something everyday for 30 days. Inspired by countless posts I've seen on Pinterest, I've chosen a random list of 30 writing prompts that I'm going to use. Hope you stick around for the month of January to see what I write next!