I was 11. It was raining. Listening to November Rain by GNR still makes me think of my first boyfriend, Rob. Rob, my weirdly invested neighbor friend, and my out of state uncle.

Do you mean to tell me that YOUR uncle didn’t drive you to and then witness your first kiss like mine did? One hasn’t lived until they get their first kiss in front of an audience.

 

It was November 1990. I had met a boy at a wedding that summer. He was two years older than me. He was a secret. He was very nice and was one of the few boys I dated who never hurt me.

I often rode my brown, ten-speed bike five miles to see him during the summer and after school. We snuck tons of phone calls and visited where and when we could. We were old-school. We mailed one another letters. His handwriting still impresses me. I kept all his letters. I keep every letter. He wrote me novels in the most gorgeous handwriting you’ve ever seen.

 

The wedding that this boy, Rob, and I met at was the wedding of my neighbor’s mom. I never would have met him, otherwise. We didn’t go to the same school. He was two grades older so he was in the Junior High.

My neighbor friend was a horrific influence on my unknowingly autistic behind. Most trouble I got into as an early teen, I got into with or because of her.

 

One visit, my uncle asked if I wanted to go to the mall with him. He told me I could bring my neighbor friend. They were both a bit rowdy, but she was 13, and he was just something else. I remember going to the mall and on the way back, my friend was asked to give him directions back home. She knew how to navigate. I am rarely the one anyone should ask for directions.

 

My uncle had a big white van that he drove down from Long Island. Before I knew it, we weren’t at home. We were on the other side of town in a neighborhood I knew from the summer. My friend had navigated my uncle to my boyfriend’s house. I don’t know if she was trying to be funny, or if she knew I really liked this boy and this was an opportunity of a lifetime.

 

My uncle obviously figured out what was happening when he heard two giggly girls in the back seat. He said, “Go ahead,” like he knew my dad would hate it and this was an opportunity I’d never get again. I ran up the hill, rang a doorbell, and had to ask his tiny sister, “Is Rob home?” She closed the door and screamed, “Robby, that girl with the orange bathing suit is at the door!” Remember, it is currently November, so this felt humorous, at the time!

 

A blond-haired, blue-eyed, nervous 13-year-old boy who was just playing original Nintendo with his brother was suddenly on his porch with me. I don’t know how he got over the audience of my friends and family at the bottom of the hill, but I will never forget what a nice first kiss it was. He somehow knew how not to over or underdo anything. For a first kiss, I’d give it 4.67/5 stars.

 

I floated to the van. If my uncle was upset or not, I don’t remember! I had just had my first kiss. I suppose I have always been a bit of an exhibitionist. (It’s difficult to tell if you can read my sarcasm.) By the time we got back to my house, my uncle told me that my secret was safe with him.