I had just turned thirteen when I had my first kiss. Rory, the cute, mysterious, dark-haired boy from down the street, had been my boyfriend for a few days when our friends decided it was time we kissed.
I decided to liken my first kiss to jumping off a cliff into water; the first time would be a little scary, but if everyone else was enjoying themselves down there in the water, then I’d take the plunge and trust it would be fun.
Take the plunge I did.
As we prepared to say goodbye that sunny afternoon, Rory flipped his hair back and leant in for the kiss. It was happening. I shut my eyes, parted my lips and waited. Before I could do anything else, I felt him peck my lower lip, closer to my chin really, and it was all over.
I was horrified.
In the process of arranging our first kiss, my friends had failed to outline just exactly what that kiss would entail.
I assumed we were going in for ‘the pash.’ Having never done it before I guessed both parties opened their mouths and kinda mushed their faces together. Apparently not. As I’d closed my eyes and opened up like a stunned fish, I guess Rory was a little taken aback. He took the easy option and did a quick peck and run.
We remained boyfriend and girlfriend for a couple more days (no more kisses though) and then our relationship was over. My first kiss was hardly a memorable moment.
In contrast to this awkward teenage moment, my first kiss with Joe, who is now my husband, was on a clear-skied evening on August 22nd, 2006. We’d officially started dating six weeks earlier, taken lots of time to get to know each other, stayed up late talking and saying goodbye, all the things you do in a new relationship, but up until that night, as far as physical contact goes we’d only ever held hands.
At the end of a family dinner, he walked me out to my car to say goodnight. As usual custom we were in awe of the stars—it was one way of making our goodbyes last that little bit longer. As the time came for me to get into my car, Joe leant in to kiss me softly on the cheek.
My heart did flip-flops. No fish-lips, no regrets, just a special moment that I will treasure forever.
I’d been praying for a few weeks he would kiss me, and that night he did. I made silent vows never to wash that part of my face again (okay, slight exaggeration) but, needless to say, I was smitten.
In the coming weeks afterthis first kiss, pecks on the cheek were sporadic but became more frequent leading up to our engagement. Admittedly these pecks also became a lot more lingering as time went on, but as a physical boundary kissing was as far as we went.
We had our first real kiss (lips connecting) the day we got engaged. Here’s a pic of that day.
As you may have guessed, we were taking things slowly. Both of us had been in relationships in the past where we had crossed boundaries that we regretted later (between us we’d crossed them all) and I didn’t think it was possible to date again and not cross the line. After all, this is the twenty-first century.
What does a Christian relationship look like these days?
Surely it is okay to cross some boundaries sometimes—no one is perfect, right?
At what point is it good to stop?
What about when you know you are going to get married eventually anyway? Is it still wrong to have sex before you say ‘I do’?
What if you think you’re ready to take the next step?
All these questions and many more are fleshed out in my latest book Daughter Wait!
If we want the kind of relationship we dream about, then we have to be willing to walk the path less travelled—regardless of the roads travelled down before. It’s time we looked at a different way of dating.
Order your copy of Daughter Wait! here.