Cassandra 3

Cassandra was 13 years old when she first kissed a boy. He was cute and sixteen and had a girlfriend that was a year older than him which made him probably the coolest guy ever. His name was Bobby.

Cassandra didn't understand why Bobby liked her quite so much. He took every chance to talk to her, sit next to her and, eventually, at a ramshackle outside concert of gypsy songs and wanton randomness, he stretched his hand out, turned Cassandra's face away from the stage and towards himself and kissed her.

Cassandra had been waiting for this. She had been wondering what her first kiss would feel like, and if she would do it right or do something embarrassing that only an inexperienced girl would do. She worried the boy would laugh at her for not knowing how to kiss. She had read extensively on the subject and interrogated many people, her mother included. She watched film kisses with intent and studied the technique. She felt she had the theory down but the practice was often another thing.


When Bobby kissed her, it felt soft and slightly wet with traces of feelings Cassandra couldn't quite understand. Passion, maybe, but she had not yet learned to have such feelings herself. For her, it was an experiment. Something you try and do because all your friends are doing it and you want to know what the fuss is all about.

Later, Bobby refused to believe she had never kissed a boy before. Cassandra felt a bit smug at first, but later, when he still wouldn't believe her, she began to feel uneasy. Why wouldn't he believe her? Why would she lie about something like that? What did it all mean?

Bobby wouldn't stop kissing her. Every chance he got, he'd drag her away to a secluded spot and kiss her for what to Cassandra felt like days, although it was probably only about 20 minutes at most. She was bored. She wanted kissing to stop but by then it was too late. Bobby had dumped his gorgeous older girlfriend because he had liked Cassandra better. Cassandra had seen the hurt in the eyes of the other girl and she felt guilt. She had tried to talk Bobby out of it but he wouldn't listen. To make things worse, all their friends have sided with the dumped girl and nobody wanted to talk to Cassandra any more. She was alone, stuck with a boyfriend she didn't really care about kissing all that much and unable to do anything about it. Because, let's face it, when you are 13 years old, romantic dramas are not something you tend to have a great deal of experience in.


Cassandra spoke to her mother about this problem and asked for her advice. Cassandra's mother seemed confused and didn't really know what to suggest. So finally, Cassandra asked for permission to lie. She would tell Bobby that her mother had found out about them and that she insisted that Cassandra stop seeing him immediately. Privately, Cassandra felt a bit confused that her mother hadn't asked exactly that herself and had to be talked into it, but adults were often confusing and you could never quite tell what went on in their heads. Perhaps she had a reason? Wanted Cassandra to keep seeing this boy? But why? It was all too complicated and headache inducing.

When Cassandra told Bobby her fake story he refused to believe her. She put on her most convincing face, paced up and down in fake distress and eventually declared that her mother would Kill her unless they broke up.

Bobby begged. He pleaded. Cassandra observed him from the corner of her eye and still couldn't work out what it was that made him behave so irrationally. Most of all, she was fascinated by the fact that Bobby never tried to conceal his feelings. However irritating , it was also mesmerising. Cassandra wished that she could be free like that.

Bobby finally relented and let her go. She felt relief. She could breathe again and slowly, her friends started to talk to her again.

Later that year she kissed another boy. He was very shy and reticent, not at all like Bobby and Cassandra had to do all the initiating and never felt the boy was enjoying the kissing in the slightest. He didn't really want to kiss her on the lips but would give her a quick peck on the cheek after he'd walked her home. Cassandra was confused by this because she knew for sure this boy had liked her because his friend had come over to talk to her and tell her this and ask her if she would go out with his friend. But the going out bit felt a bit boring and one day, while she was running to the shops with her friends (because that's what you do when you are thirteen, you run places), and the boy had just come out of the side street on his way to somewhere, she stopped to break up with him. It was so much easier this time. There was no protest and, if anything, Cassandra thought the boy was quite relieved.

By the time she reached the shops, Cassandra had decided that kissing boys was alltogether too complicated and that she might give it a miss for a while. She was 17 before she kissed a boy again. But that is for another story.