Tell for me the story of Melly's first kiss.
I'm going to assume you mean my first grown-up kiss with open-mouths and all. So.. ok.
Let us do remember what Melly was like in high school. Melly was quiet, shy, bookish, and unaware of her own fantabulousness. Melly was 5'3" and weighed more than she should.. she hunched over so that people wouldn't stare at her boobs and she dressed in clothes that her lovely but misguided mother bought her. Melly, technically speaking, was a wreck.
It's true. I was. But I was lucky with friends. I didn't have a lot of them, but the ones I had knew me so well and loved me anyway and let me tell silly stories. Among the small circle were two guy friends, Jamie and JJ. One tall and thin and geeky, the other short and stout and.. well.. geeky. I loved them. And they supported me in everything I did. They adored me and it was mutual.
As a Senior I had English class with JJ and the third in their trio of geeky guy-ness, a boy named Michael. Mike? Mike was beautiful. I'm not kidding. He was the singular most attractive man I'd ever seen. And he still beats most of the men I've dated. Mike dated cute girls, tiny girls, perky girls, but he talked to me. Halfway through the year I was having to stay late for speech and debate practice since I had several major tournaments coming up... Mike was staying late to study. I would see him by the back entrance waiting for his mother and I'd hang out with him.. talking. For hours. His mother would come and I'd wave goodbye and I'd think how the pretty men never liked me.
Our big Spring paper turned out to be on Macbeth. Mine was good. It was. I write good papers. Mike's? Was awful. He was a smart boy but completely incapable of putting his thoughts on paper. So we worked out a deal.. I'd go through his paper with him and work on the language and phrasing.. he'd repay me by cooking me the meal that won him a full scholarship to culinary school. A good deal all around.
He turned out a fine paper. He really did. And I rapidly became aware that what I was heading for with this dinner was an actual honest-to-God date. The first one I'd ever had that wasn't to a school dance. (I'm a late bloomer.. I like to think I make up for it with the size of my blossoms.) I was, of course, terrified.
My father agreed to let us have the run of his kitchen while he took my brother out to a movie. Mike showed up with a white rose (my favorites at that point.. and my how things change) and all the ingredients for dinner. "What can I do to help?" I asked.
"Just sit there and continue to look beautiful."
Oh. Oh my.
My father, being a father, was completely unable to deal with the fact that his 17-year-old daughter was alone in the house with a boy-shaped hormonal containment unit. He called every ten minutes. I'd run out of the kitchen and grab the living room phone and assure him that yes, my maidenhood was in tact and no, we hadn't burned down the house yet. Every ten minutes.
The fourth time the phone rang Mike followed me into the hallway, he stood there while I dealt with the call and then as I walked back to the kitchen he stopped me, he asked if it was my father and I slumped against the wall saying that it was and I was sorry he was such a pain. At which point Mike put one hand on either side of my head, leaned in, and kissed me.
I knew it was coming and for every split second before he put his mouth on mine I was sure he'd know I'd never done this.. he'd know I had no idea what I was doing.. he'd know.. and then he kissed me and I wasn't sure of anything anymore except that I really liked this, and I'd do it any time he wanted. Every time. There were a lot of times.
Mike and I dated (and kissed) for two and a half years, through his college and my community college and through sex so bad it's a story in itself. The story of why he no longer speaks to me is fabulous too, it involves mistaken identity, computer sex, and industrial stock pots full of chili. But you asked about the kissing. These days I'm not so shy, not so quiet, and I tend not to hide behind my clothes anymore.. but oh.. oh I do still love kissing.
Your last night in Scotland. *holds you*
Hmmm... ok.. Lemme think.
Our last night in Scotland we spent in a town called Oban. We drove in using two maps, the high-view highway map of the country and the map of the hostel that included the two blocks immediately surrounding the building.. but nothing in between. Nevertheless, our Melly-Caitlin internal directional system got us there almost without misstep. We checked in and the nice Australian girl (and they're all Nice Australian Girls at the Scottish hostels) directed us to this place called Markie Dan's for dinner. It turned out to be a gorgeous little pub with outside seating right on the common greens for the town and a view of the harbor not 20ft beyond.
Oban is a fishing town and the boats were coming in for the evening as we sat down. We were surrounded by cheery Scots and laughing Englishmen and the sounds of fisherman coming home. It was perfect.
Weaving in and out of the tables and people was this little blonde English girl called Madeline. You know that was her name because every time she'd do something wrong (approx. every 4-6 seconds) her father would bellow "Madeline!" (with a long I) and she'd look chagrined for half a second and then keep on doing whatever got her in trouble. Taking a cherry from the bar? "Madeline!" Sitting down at the table of the people next to me?" "Madeline!" Running over to the footie game the local boys had going and stealing their ball? "MADELINE!"
That last one earned her a physical removal to her parents table and an admonishment not to move. By now it was dark though and so we all adjourned inside. Madeline and her parents got the table next to us and she and I began to play peek-a-boo over the backs of the booth benches. One time when I came up she reached over and did the universal "got your nose!" manuver. Just slid it right off my face.
I clasped my hands over my nose and gasped. "Did you take my nose?!" And she smiled triumphantly and hid her fisted hand behind her back. And then?
She got this terrified look and turned to her father. "Madeline you come here right now."
She walked her way across the bench seat to where he sat staring at her furiously. Eventually she stood in front of him with her cheeks pinking and a look on her face like she knew she'd finally gone too far.
Her father looked her in the eye and held his hand out, palm up. "Give it here."
Madeline brought her fist out from behind her back and deposited my "nose" in his plam. He balled his hand up and "threw" it at me. I "caught" it and put it back on my face as Madeline began to smile again.
"Now say you're sorry."
Madeline's big blue eyes looked over at me with a twinkle. "I'm sorry I took your nose."
And really, how do you hold a grudge against that?
We finished our pints, took pictures of the harbor and I smiled at the idea of being a fisherman's wife. Before too long we headed back for the hostel and caught up on our journals while drinking milky tea with McVities milk chocolate biscuits and loving our lives. Eventually we even went to bed and I woke up at 3am to the sound of six different snores chorusing together.. but the thing I remember most?
(I have pictures, remind me to show you)
I would like to hear the story of Melly's first Pennsic.
I had gone up for the first weekend to set up tents and camp and so I knew the general lay-out of what I was in for.. but when Caitlin's husband came to pick me up and drove us the five hours up to the site I really had no idea what awaited me.
We drove in by the back gate and J rolled all the windows down. "Smell that?" he asked. "That smells like Pennsic." I hauled myself up through the window of the car and sat there for the whole drive. It was dark, really dark, with spots of fires and the smell of dirt and smoke and warm canvas. Back then I couldn't have picked out the individual smells but now it's a combination I know so so well.
We drove up to the campsite and everyone was in.. they were lounging around drinking and laughing and they all jumped up to help us unload. The group consensus was that we should all go out and wander around and see what there was to see. So I put on my best chemise/bodice/skirt combination over what went underneath my garb then... underwear and bike shorts both. (what goes underneath them now? ask a scotsman.)
I asked Emily to straighten me up and I filled my glass and off we went down the hill. It seemed forever then... a long walk up the block, a long walk down the hill, the corner.. and then a wall of sound. Vlad's was open that night and the drums were wailing. There were people screaming and cheering and the sound of bells and oh.. the drums.
There ahead of me, coming in my direction, was my friend Bruce. Bruce was next to his very overprotective girlfriend so on his way by he only met my eyes and held them.. smiling. He seemed to be welcoming me and then he winked.
I went walking through Vlads and guzzling my cider and watching the dancing. I hadn't known that places like this existed, that dancing like this existed. I hadn't known even to miss it in my life but now when I don't have it I miss it like water and air.
J walked me all over the campsite and showed me all kinds of places.. his is still the way I get to the runestone shower house and I'll never forget the first view across the lake.
But the moment at which it turns into a Melly story? Is this one:
After arriving back at Vlads I had another (three) cider(s) and then announced that I REALLY had to pee. So Q (I think) escorted me to the porta johns and waited for me while holding my drink. I went in there, hiked my skirt up over my butt, pulled my bike shorts and undies down to my knees, angled back over the seat (because my Momma didn't raise no dummies, you NEVER sit down on a portajohn) and let fly.. unfortunately I failed to check and see if the seat was up.
Everything ran straight down the seat, into my bike shorts and from thence down my legs and into my shoes. By the time I realised what had happened I was a complete mess and ended up having to walk back up the hill to camp with my legs bowed like Catherine the Great and a really irked expression.
I was ready to quit and go to bed. Instead? I took my undies off, changed my shoes, and went right back out. I ended up with inner thigh chafing so bad that it made me bleed, but I learned some valuable lessons about what makes an evening fun, how good friends can take you through the wall of sound and into the drums, how the human body can move in joy to thumping rhythms, and how Pennsic can make anything seem worthwhile, even walking uphill in wet drawers.
I would like to hear the story of the Rabbit, The Pomegranite, The Twelve Year Olde Single Malt, and The Stain That Never Came Out.
And if not that, something from the Digex era, preferably with people I know.
How about the housewarming party for the first house that Danielle and Megan and I lived in? Did I tell you that one already?
melly. i completely and totally adore you.
Chelle... *foreheads touching*
Oh Thuri, there's no one I'd rather tell this story to. :)
When I was at University I was a rugby player. And on the team I had a few friends (though not many, because I'm not a natural athlete) and close ones. Liz with her great heart, and Nikki who we called Wheels because of how fast she ran, and Brenda.
I don't want anyone thinking "Oh yeah, women rugby players. All no-shaving and butch, eh?" No. Not at all. Liz had these stunning cheekbones and Nikki was this little cute thing and Brenda... oh Brenda. She had these huge brown eyes.. and this smile.. it would start at the corner of her eyes and work its way down to her mouth and then this great gurgling laugh. She had this beautiful skin and long dark hair and it made her face look like it was glowing.
And when she looked at you, it was like you were the only person in the world.
I turned 21 over the Thanksgiving holiday and then after the long weekend I went back to school and Brenda (who'd been there the whole time.. she lived and worked there as well as going to school) invited me out to celebrate. We hit a couple of the local bars and then raided the 7-11 for cheap wine and went back to her apartment.
We just sat there on the couch and talked and laughed and watched a little tv and after a long laugh she reached out and took my glass. She put it on the coffee table and took my face in both hands and came forward to kiss me.
I could feel her smile against my mouth.. I could smell her hair.. she tasted of berries and wine.. her left hand was up and cupping my face while her right hand slid down my shoulder and tightened on my upper arm. She sighed a little against my face and I leaned into her, kissing back with more passion than I thought I had in me.
I have been dating sin
*sits quietly and listens*
Miss Molly... Happy Solstice! Would you like a story?