Speedy Delivery! Speedy Delivery!

I’ve been debating on which story would be the last in this line of embarrassing or awkward moments involving the opposite sex. I was going to go with the cold fish kiss when I was in graduate school, or the out of the blue kiss in undergrad. I decided on both. They both have their nice little comedic moments. We will start with Jen Fast, who lived by her last name.

My first few years of undergrad I hung out a lot with the some upperclassmen in my dorm unit. One of the guys, Tom, would invite us often up to Michigan for the short holidays like Thanksgiving and such. My first Thanksgiving with Tom is when I met Jen Fast. She was a friend of a friend of Tom’s that we hung out with one night. I think the most I ever spoke to her was “Hi. I’m Brad. Nice to meet you.” That’s it. There was no playful banter or even idle chitchat. Nothing.

Six months later, I travel up to visit Tom during the summer between my sophomore and junior year. Tom worked nights as a security guard, so it was just me watching a bunch of movies on VHS or playing Rogue on his ancient computer. One night, I was getting ready to put in “Nightmare on Elm Street,” when the doorbell rang. Opening the door, I was greeted by Jen and Tom’s friend. I told them, “Tom’s not here.” Jen said, “We know. Can we come in?” I stammered, “Yes.” Before you start thinking in a certain direction, let me now mention that Tom’s friend’s boyfriend then followed them in after parking their car. I should also mention that it wasn’t till after we broke up into pairs and sat down to watch “NoES” that I finally remembered Jen’s name. Before then I was stuck using second person pronouns.

With the seating arrangements settled, I found my self sitting with Jen on the small couch, often called the “love seat.” Fifteen minutes into the movie, I glanced over to see the friend and her boyfriend making out. Something I thought was completely inappropriate. I turned to Jen to voice my complaint. There was that look in her eye. I’d never really seen it real life, but I’d seen it in movies. I believe it is often called the “come hither” look, or something like that. It should be known that I had not kissed a girl since Jill in the storage closet. That was in 1985. It was 1992 at the time. This would be the history of my romantic life: Long droughts followed by sudden bursts of heavy rain. Since it had been 7 years, I was slightly apprehensive. I was cutting and splicing all the kisses I’d seen in movies to create my blueprint of a good kiss. She smiled as her pinky finger wrapped around mind. She leaned in close, and closed her eyes. What could I do? I had no choice, no options. I quickly stood up and said, “I need a drink. Would you like anything?”

It’s not that I didn’t want to kiss her. She was cute, and sweet. The problem was I didn’t really know her. Who knows where her mouth has been. And this whole situation was just kind of thrust upon me. My wheels were off, and it had been a really, really long time.

Ten minutes later after a personal pep talk, I slid back in next to Jen. She grabbed my hand. I kept my eyes on the movie. She grabbed my knee. I kept my eyes on the movie. She turned my face toward hers. I really tried to keep my eyes on the movie, but my peripheral vision is limited. She smiled and said, “They won’t mind.” I looked over at the friend and her boyfriend who had at this point just fallen asleep. Obviously, they won’t mind, but I’m not much of an exhibitionist. But, I realized my fate was sealed. I couldn’t fight it anymore. So I went for it, finally. Fireworks exploded. Angels sang. My lips went numb, as did my arm that she was lying on. I was tapped. 7 years cleaned out in one kiss. She though wasn’t finished. She kept going and going. I wondered if this was her first kiss, or maybe her first make-out session as well. It kept going so long I was actually trying to catch glimpses of the TV because Letterman was on. Finally, after draining my soul, she said, “I need to get home before curfew.” Curfew? What college girl has curfew during summer? Oh shit! Yes, she was indeed still in high school. She was getting ready to start her senior year. Sweet. Now I was a cradle robber!

Anyway they left. She kissed me goodbye at the door, and said “Don’t forget me.” Obviously, I couldn’t. For a couple months we exchanged letters. I never gave her my address, she stole it off some of my luggage. Eventually, after a creepy phone call in the middle of the night, I lost touch with her. I never heard from her again. That is till my fifth year of undergrad, when one of the campus computer nerds ran up to me and asked if I was Brad Iten. After answering yes, he proceeded to tell me that he came across some girl on the message boards, who was looking for a Brad Iten. He said her name was “Jen Speed- something.” “Jen Fast?” I asked. “Yes,” he exclaimed. Creepy I thought. It would then be another seven year drought till I kissed another girl.