traumatic-first-kissShe stuck her tongue out as far as she could push it.

And she began violently licking the side of my face.

What’s happening right now?! What’s happening right now?! I was paralyzed. I didn’t know what was going on enough to figure out how to get out of it. I only knew it was icky.

She wasn’t just licking little licks. She was straight up starting down in my beard, and taking long sweeping swipes up toward my eye.

What?! Huh?! I…. What the… Help meeee!

And would you believe me if I told you that her sudden ferocity, or her act of licking, or the shock of it all wasn’t the worst part?

The worst part was her tongue.

I am telling you. There was no saliva on that thing. It was as dry as a cat’s tongue, and six times as rough. It was like she had attached a piece of sandpaper to it and was trying to grate through to my cheek bones.


It was awful, my friends. Worst first kiss ever.

And I didn’t even kiss her. I just received that wild cat kiss up the side of my face.


And again.

And again.

I finally pushed her off playfully and tried to not immediately start wiping her weirdness off my face.

“I just want to take it slow,” I told her, calm as a cucumber.

And I never saw her again after that night.

The next day I received more than 70 texts from her, though. And more than 110 the day after that. But luckily only about 60 the day after that. All of them proceeding a single text I sent her that said, “I think you’re amazing. I’m just not feeling it. Thanks for the fantastic dates.”

But that’s another story for another day.

Dan Pearce, Single Dad Laughing