Fantastic Firsts

During a recent conversation, my roommate made the comment that my stories for "first times"-- first kiss, first night out with someone, that sort of thing-- are more interesting than most people's.

She's right. And that's why I'm writing this post. Thank you, Tori.

Let's start with what is my favorite example.

I got my first kiss on the night of my senior prom. (Take that, all you kids that had your first kiss in middle school!) This seems like a pretty conventional story so far, but just give it time.

My date and I (and Tori and her date... we spend an unhealthy amount of time together...) had a wonderful dinner at a nice restaurant and had a decent time through the beginning of the dance.

As the prom was nearing it's end, I did what every girl dreams of doing on prom night.

Yes, that's right. I stepped in vomit. Fresh vomit, at that. Ew.

For those of you who don't know, I'm more than a little neurotic. I don't like other people touching me even if they've just washed their hands--you can only imagine the horror that stepping in vomit must've been for me. Thinking about it makes me a little sick.

But that didn't spoil the evening-- though God only knows why it didn't. Maybe the whole ordeal of stepping in someone else's puke traumatized me so much that I didn't realize that I should stop enjoying myself. Or maybe I was just putting on a brave face for everyone. Who can say?

Anyway, I got my first kiss that night (morning? It was after midnight) before I went home, scraping vomit bits off of the heel of my shoe.

A very memorable evening, all in all.

More recently, on one of the weekends when my roommate abandoned me (she does that sometimes--she's like Batman, only less masculine and not as dark) , I went out with a friend for the first time (um... the first time with that particular friend--I'm socially awkward, but even I'm not that bad). We went to Burger King for milkshakes. At midnight, because that's what we cool college kids do.

Yeah.

As we were sitting around, drinking our milkshakes and chatting, another friend of mine walks up to me, hands me a flower and walks off without saying anything. This didn't really strike me as being odd, but apparently, it was odd.

But it was no more so than what happened next.

About midway through my explanation of why I didn't find girls in Burger Kings handing me fresh flowers to be strange, the fire alarm in the restaurant went off.

I was blamed for this, though I'm not really sure why. Apparently, people seem to think that I have uncontrolled powers of telekinesis.

Which I do.

So my first outing with my friend ended with a Burger King burning to the ground.

Okay, so the Burger King didn't burn down. But wouldn't that have made the story more interesting?

People say that firsts are supposed to be memorable. I suppose if that's the case, I'm in good shape.

After all, who can forget stepping in puke?