Diary Thursdays: This one needs no intro

January 5th, Sunday, 1992, 14-year-old, 5:32pm

Well, I've now been on a date and made out with a guy. I feel I've graduated into a new class, though I did not necessarily like getting there. The date was weird. I can't exactly figure this guy out. First I met him at the library where we sat at a table and did math homework for an hour and forty-five minutes. Then, we went for an awkward walk through Cal campus. Then we went behind this building and as soon as we were away from people, he moved closer to me, put his arm around me, and the next thing I know his tongue is in my mouth and he's slobbering all over my lips. I was kind of stunned. I didn't know what to do. I kept thinking, "Is this how it's supposed to feel, it's not as much fun as I thought."

It wasn't like all my wonderful fantasies. It was, I don't know. Mushy. Wet. Kind of dull. Just plain weird. Maybe his tongue is too big. Maybe his entire mouth is too big. Maybe I'm just not as attracted to him as I thought. It was not very romantic.

Then we were back in public, walked down to Shattuck. I told him that I'd had a really good time and I'd like to do it again next weekend or something. Now I can't figure out why I said that. I guess I was just being polite. I think I totally led him on. I said goodbye and he didn't kiss me, which was good and bad, and then I walked home.

The entire way home I kept spitting. I think I got a saliva overbalance. I could not get over the idea that it was HIS spit that I was swallowing. Blech! But I'm very glad I know what it feels like to make out. From now on I won't be jealous of all those couples I see on the steps at Berkeley High. I've been in their shoes. Imagine what a disappointment sex is going to be! Maybe I'll just remain celibate.