Bottoms up!

Being from the exotic land of Utah Valley means that I was fairly sheltered, even by the time I was a senior in high school. I still thought that dating someone exclusively at my age was immoral and therefore out of the question. I also had no clue that kissing meant slightly parting lips (my mind conceived of nothing other than innocent pecks, in spite of any movies I had seen). This background information might make the awkwardness of the following story somewhat more meaningful.

I had a crush on a special boy--special because he, too, had high standards, and believed that any physical contact was to exist only after the guy had served a mission. So no worries--I hadn't told a soul about my heart's desires, as that could lead to nothing but trouble. Even so, I had a hunch, after several months of careful observation, that he reciprocated the crush. One day, we were at his house cooking an omelet together in the kitchen. We were joking and laughing and having good, clean fun.

Until I swatted his buttocks. I still don't know how it happened, but my hand ended up next to his backside for a solid spank. My face burned red as I watched his jaw drop--and remain--open. Silence reigned for a good while, and I certainly didn't have any explanation for my wicked behavior. I probably muttered a meek apology, but was mortified for at least a few more weeks.


And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why I now avoid any awkwardness altogether and just kiss on the first date. It does wonders to break the ice. ;)