Even though I'm gay, I did once have a girlfriend. And we once had a kiss.
This goes goes back to The Brady Bunch. In one episode, Bobby knows he'll never like kissing girls. Then a kiss catches him off guard. He literally sees fireworks -- afternoon delight. When the kid gets experimental and kisses his girl on purpose, it's raining sparks just as sure as before. We're in a very Brady world. Even the Mr. and Mrs. take the kiss test. Same spider bursts, same ring of fire. Alice the maid pops out from the kitchen. "Round here," she says, "it's the 4th of July!"
This is what happens when you do too much hallucinating.
A kid oughtta know better. But I needed hope. I'd been raised Catholic and thought the hots I had for boys might be the mark of Satan. Also, Craig down the block said that "Ogden Nash" was a bad word but that "fag" wasn't. "Because black people don't deserve bad names." I got the picture. So, I wanted girl-kissing fireworks in a big way. Not for the sake of seeing stars. Bobby Brady and the Frog Prince were changed. That's what I wanted.
Then there was Carrie Hagel. She was small, with light-brown skin and a cute, kiddish smile. She had mousey short-hair and laughed a lot. She was all the things that magnetize me, but for the plumbing.
There was the parish picnic in the summer between fifth and sixth grades in one of Ohio's most majestic parks. A friend told me he'd spied Carrie on a giant tree fallen over a tadpole stream in the woods. I went down there and we sat on that trunk, letting our legs kick back and forth as we stared at the whirling water, seeming miles below. We hardly said a thing. We didn't even hold hands. But there was wonder in it. I remember the moment like a movie. Like my spirit craned up and out of me to enjoy the scene whole.
Months passed. The sixth grade passed. When summer came again, kids spent most of the week at the local pool. My fondest memory of the Y is of some little dude in a white speedo, but back then, my head said the Carrie crush took precedence. Me and my gal joked around in the splashing chaos. We tried this game she knew. You hold hands, place your feet flat together and push yourselves into a pretzel. You end up underwater tangled face-to-face. Carrie said kids did it with a kiss at the end, so we did too. It was fun and sweet but we both agreed it was just a game. It didn't count as a real kiss for being underwater.
Not so much [i]Blue Lagoon[/i] as [i]Turquoise Tank[/i].
It did count for the beginning of "going together" though. We just kind of knew we were an item now and it was confirmed in conversations with everyone else. This was good timing because two weeks later, Catherine Alford had a party without parents. It would be a first for all invited. Rumor had it, there might even be beerf‚, and Spin the Bottle. Junior High was coming and the curtain was raising on big kid parties. I showed up and danced like a speed freak with epilepsy to Bob Seger's "Betty Lou's Getting' Out Tonight." There was plenty pent up in my fear that my first dry land kiss would fizzle. That's what the night meant to me. It would be the big test. If I kissed Carrie and nothing so much as a sparkler sparked, my hopes of changing sexual orientations would be crushed.
We sat in a huge circle in Catherine Alford's backyard driveway. Everyone was buzzing. We might as well have been taking our first steps on the moon. Right away I saw people were spinning the bottle with such care that four out of five spins landed as intended. And any guy-on-guy or girl-on-girl results were thrown out. So when it came my time to spin, everyone was behind it landing on Carrie. I spun so that it wouldn't even make full revolution, pretty sure I was cheating. It landed on my friend Ben, but he was sitting next to Carrie. It was time. Slowly and sweetly, we did the deed.
I thought of a dog's nose.
I had hoped to see sparks in the heavens. Or at least to have felt them in my heart. What I got was wet nostrils. Mind you, I wasn't a pet owner then. My feelings about dog noses have improved dramatically. But I'd been putting myself on about Carrie.
Pardon me, do you have any Grey Poupon?
What I did next was stupid and cruel. A few days later at school, I played a prank on Carrie at recess. I told her I had a present for her. I presented her with a little ring box. She was so touched, it was painful. Because inside was some greenish slime from our garden mixed with coffee grinds and a dollop of mustard. She turned pale. She was really hurt . I laughed, trying to make it plain this was just a little fun-no offense intended. But I darted off before fixing things. Years later, I apologize every time I see her. At the same time, I still think it's kind of funny.
I might not have been entirely conscious about why I pulled the mustard joke at the time, but I think I got the intended result. My first romantic relationship was over. Fireworks were still to come.
Metaphorical ones, though. Those Bradys were full of Shakespeare.
Do you have a "Puppy Love" story? A first fling? Submit it as a ZUG Article and title it "Puppy Love: _____________." You might be invited to contribute to my upcoming podcast of dangerous stories, daringly told called RISK! For more info, visit risk-show.com. The first season of RISK! will include Marc Maron, Michael Ian Black, Michael Showalter, David Wain, Janeane Garofalo, Keith Powell, Rachel Dratch, Andy Borowitz and more. Click here to submit your story!
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