Husband and I had our first kiss on December 1, 1995.
He was just twenty-two and I, the cradle robber, was thirty.
Things I remember…
After work, we met some coworkers at a Cantina to celebrate my boss’s birthday.
Happy Birthday, Rebecca!!
Husband and I rode to the restaurant together as friends.
We took a detour to the Ocean Beach Pier on the way back and arrived home as something more.
A nosy acquaintance had taken me out to lunch earlier that month, just to grill me about the relationship. At the time of her third degree, husband and I were strictly platonic with no plan of anything more, so that’s what I told her.
“We’re really good friends, ” I said, but she didn’t believe me. I found her questions impolite and annoying. The day after husband and I kissed, I laughed at her in my head.
I remember finally being able to study husband’s face that night. I couldn’t do it for weeks before we kissed, because I knew my eyes would give away what I was feeling.
I was wearing a long loose knit sweater, a pair of black leggings and flat slip-on shoes. Oh, and a necklace.
It was a little bit windy on the pier and there were a handful of people there, fishing.
Walking back to the car afterward was weird. Exciting, strange, and sweet, but weird.
The following days at work were agonizing. I couldn’t think straight and I felt paranoid and nervous, but I couldn’t stop smiling.
Husband left me love notes and we kissed some more.
Now we’re married and we have a beautiful little boy and a house and three cats and a Christmas Tree and all the almonds we can eat and a cow on the piano.
Life is good.
And it started with a kiss.
Happy Kiss Day Anniversary, Husband.
I’d do it all again in a heartbeat.