Walt Darling and the Actual First Kiss
show me, show me, show me how you do that trick the one that makes me scream she said the one that makes me laugh she said and threw her arms around my neck
Each chapter of the Walt Darling saga can be read independently of all the others, like a mystery-of-the-week serial, so you don’t need to have read any of the prior entries to enjoy this one. But, if you reach the end, and find yourself wanting more, here are the earlier chapters:
< Introduction | The Almost First Kiss | The New Game | The Rollercoaster of Oops | The Talk | The Actual First Kiss >
The lights dimmed and the trailers for upcoming family movies played. We held hands in the middle of the back row of the theater, neither of us picking popcorn out of the large bucket I had bought from concessions. I looked at Daniella and smiled. She stared at the screen. I looked ahead. She laughed. I turned back to see her smiling at me, her dark brown eyes sparkling in the darkness. I couldn’t place the scent of her perfume, but it was a pleasant flower in a theater of butter and Coca-Cola and junior mints, and her skin was soft and her hand was in mine and did anything else even matter?
“My friend Jana asked if we were even going to watch any of the movie.”
I’d never met Jana, had only ever heard about Jana or any of Daniella’s many other friends. I’d only ever even seen Daniella Rodriguez herself, my date, my hoped-for first kiss, a couple times before, waving from the passenger side of her mom’s van in the parking lot of the church we had Troop Meetings at, picking up her younger brother, who as Senior Patrol Leader, I’d just taught how to tie a square knot, a clove-hitch, a bow-line, but I’d spent hours chatting with Daniella on the phone, pulling the cord from the hallway into the room I shared with my younger brother, around our box of arms-switched He-Man toys, and into the closet, so I could talk in privacy about James Iha’s amazing guitar solos and Nirvana’s unreleased tracks that I recorded off of Benjamin’s bootleg cassette, and how annoying and prejudiced parents were, and whatever else, talking late into the early morning.
Thank God that when my mom drove me to Daniella’s house to pick her up for the movie, my mom didn’t comment on Daniella’s brown skin; in fact, thank God twice that my mom didn’t mention her opposition to interracial dating because it led to interracial marriage which led to interracial babies who struggled with identity issues and suffered racist insults from every race in the seventh grade pre-algebra classes she taught, which made no sense to me even then, but I didn’t yet know how to challenge my mom. And thank God three times that judging from her ear-to-ear grin that my mom seemed most pleased to confirm that her first-born and never-had-a-girlfriend son wasn’t gay like his cousin, and therefore, at last, was finally not afraid of dating.
Don’t misjudge me. Asking Daniella out hadn’t been any noble act of teenage rebellion. I desperately wanted a first kiss before high school started in a month and the Scoutmaster’s son had told me that Daniella had a massive crush on me and he heard that she was a good kisser so I should ask her out and so, just like anyone, I did.
During one hours-long conversation, Daniella told me, “I like kissing. Do you like kissing?”
“Oh yeah. It’s great.”
“Sometimes I’m not even meaning to kiss someone, and it just happens. The other week, I was at a friend’s house and we were petting his super white, super fluffy cat, and our fingers touched under its long, soft fur, and next thing I know, I’m making out with my friend from grade school, who I always considered more of a brother than a romantic option, you know?”
“Oh yeah, totally.”
“Kissing is just one of those super fun things to do.”
“I love it,” I said. “It’s the best.”
I had no plans to watch the movie. I inhaled and circled my thumb in Daniella’s palm. Like undulating waves, our fingers interlocked and traced and curled and felt and grasped and touched and brushed and
OH MY GOD WHEN WILL THESE PREVIEWS END PLAY THE FILM
The talking sodas and dancing candies shushed us quiet. The overhead lights dimmed off, the reels spun, and the Disney castle projected onto the screen. Then, all the animals of the savanna gathered to see the new lion cub and I leaned over the arm rest and puckered and pressed my lips to Daniella’s lips and no one saw us and I grabbed her arm and caressed from her wrist to her elbow and she opened her mouth and I stuck out my tongue and she met mine with hers and she tasted like Big Red and like our hands a minute before, our mouths moved forward and back and around and to the side and pressing and pushing and retreating and returning and
WINNING GOAL BEGIN!!! GOLD MEDAL CHAMPION!!!
I kept groping her arms and she squeezed my shoulder and pressed her fingers into my back. Her eyes were closed so I shut mine and then fast reopened them - I didn’t want to miss this moment I became a man. We kissed and we kissed and we kissed and pulled apart to catch our breaths and swallow as a stampede of wildebeests trampled Mufasa. I held her hand and watched the movie and wondered when to start kissing her again. She watched me in the dark. Heat radiated off her pursed lips, which she licked and smacked, quietly at first, then increasingly louder.
“I want to keep kissing you,” I said.
“Duh,” she said. “Don’t watch the movie.”
I leant over and pressed my lips to hers. I rubbed the fabric of her shirtsleeve around her arm below her shoulder.
CURSE REVERSED!! NO MORE WAR!! NO MORE SORROW!!!
The animals sang “no worries for the rest of my days,” the song that had already been incorporated into skits at Scout Camp. I shifted in my seat. Kissing was every bit as amazing as all the songs and movies had led me to expect, but… with her tongue in my mouth, and her hands on my neck, I wondered, I pondered, I questioned, I guessed… should I touch her boobs?
Benjamin had asked what base I hoped to reach - second or third? Couldn’t I be proud for simply being in the game? But also, already, I wanted more. Second seemed like a worthwhile new goal. But should I go for it now? Wait until next date? Next girl?
FOCUS!! BE PRESENT!! DON’T EXIT MOMENT!!!!
I leaned into the armrest separating us and the large popcorn fell out of my lap onto the floor. In my peripheral, I saw the popcorn scatter, the bucket I bought despite Daniella saying she didn’t want any, the popcorn I hadn’t chewed so as not to ruin my three-times brushed fresh breath, this dent in my allowance that I pride purchased anyway, this large bucket of popcorn tipped and spilled out across the sloped carpet and rolled away under the row before us.
Her lips pressed against my lips, I didn’t care. Let it all roll away. Yeah, hey, yay. And I forget, just why I taste. Oh yeah, I guess it makes me smile. I found it hard, it's hard to find. Oh well, whatever, never mind. Goodbye popcorn. Goodbye little boy Walt who had never kissed a girl.
I step-by-stepped my fingers hand-puppet style up Daniella’s sleeve and stood on her shoulder. My pinky that I cannot curl began to throb. Would this mountaineer climb the peaks today?
When out of the corner of my eye I see, not the ghost of Edmund Hillary, but the spirits of everyone who has ever mattered to me. My father, see-through and looking like his college photo that hangs on the wall in our hallway, where he wears a powder-blue suit and sports long hair combed over like a wave; my mother, transparent and appearing like she does in the photo of her shortly after I was born, a little chubby, but smiling like the sun; my younger brother, looking like he is but almost invisible; and an old fisherman, fading in-and-out, with a bucket hat and a beard the color of crashing surf, blowing bubbles out of a pipe, around a nose identical to my nose, above a grin identical to my grin, clearly myself, imagination aged and nautical.
My hand inched down Daniella’s shirt. My spirit-brother waved. I slowed my ascent.
“Now that you’re a man, big brother, please tell me that my issue of X-Men, issue number 8, the one with Psylocke coming out of the water, that it will quit disappearing, and our bunk bed will quit shaking at night after you turn off your reading lamp?”
I glanced back to Daniella’s shut eyes, then back to my spirit-brother and nodded, okay, sure, no more bed shaking. My spirit-brother clapped his little ghost hands and retreated.
I lifted my hand off Daniella’s shirt and let it hover, inches away from her chest. Her eyes were still closed. My spirit-father stepped forward and said, “This is my son. I’m so proud of him.”
I almost swallowed Daniella’s tongue, which she seemingly enjoyed, because her other hand shot up from my arm onto the back of my head - inspiring me to put my other hand on the back of her head.
My spirit-dad flashed his Superman smile at me, his perfect teeth like a toothpaste commercial, and wordlessly communicated, “My boy.”
Without talking, my spirit-dad, he nodded, “Forgive me for yelling all those times we played catch and I refused to let you quit until you caught one last pitch and over and over and over again you dropped the ball.”
I nodded and my spirit-dad retreated. Daniella was weaving her fingers into my hair.
My spirit-mom clasped her hands together and said, “I love you no matter what.”
Why did she always say that? What bad thing did she expect to happen?!
My hand shook a quarter inch from the rise in Daniella’s chest. Was this my chance?
Old spirit-fisherman-me, winked in morse code, “Good one.”
I was one of three Scouts in my Troop that had memorized the dots and dashes alphabet to earn the Wilderness Survival merit badge.
I winked back, “Is she ‘the one?’”
Old spirit-fisherman-me, he shook his head and winked out, “No one.”
No one?
CONFUSION INTRUSION!! WHAT DID HE MEAN?
Then, my spirit-family and future fisherman-me, they vanished into the darkness. Daniella moaned softly and gently bit my lower lip. I worried future-me had hinted that I would never find love, but I hoped he meant to say, philosophically, there’s not just one person for anybody, the concept of ‘soul-mates’ is a myth. My hand was so close to pressing against Daniella’s breast. My pinky finger ached like I had just slammed my fist down on the boulder.
ENJOY THE MOMENT!! DON’T GET GREEDY!!
I grabbed Daniella’s elbow and ran my palm down the length of her arm to her wrist and then slowly worked my way back up to her elbow. I figured I could always touch a boob next time.
FIRST BASE!! YOU’RE IN THE GAME!!
I quit worrying.
Like ice cream on the frosting of a birthday cake, like an extra bag of chips dropped from the vending machine coil, like the cool wind from a fan in the summer, like anything and everything good, we kissed.
The movie ended and the lights returned and Daniella and I pulled away from each other and wiped our mouths and laughed and left holding hands and then we talked on the phone for a couple weeks more before we never talked together again and I had no regrets.
Son, real quick, before you go? You may have sensed that I enhanced some details for dramatic effect, but can we pause a bit to discuss consent? I know we talked about this before, when we had “the talk,” but please let me reiterate. Lots of girls (or boys) would love for you to touch them in ways that will make you nervous, but make sure that whoever you want to touch is someone who wants you to touch them. The best way to not worry if something’s okay or not, is to ask. Looking back, I’m lucky that for all the smooching that happened with Daniella, I had her enthusiastic consent. Maybe she would have consented to more? I don’t know. I didn’t ask. So, thank God four times that I didn’t try.
As I’m sure you’re aware, if given the choice between a sunrise breakfast on the ridge of the Grand Canyon with a chocolate croissant from Tatté and a Mexican Mocha from Presta Coffee, or five seconds holding your mom’s boobs, well, haha, no surprise here, there will never be a morning that I’m not going to choose holding her boobs. But if she wasn’t into it? Well, I would do anything to keep from sexually assaulting her.
So, whoever you’re with, whatever you’re doing, it’s your responsibility to first ask if it’s okay.
And son?
I’m so proud of you.
My hope is each Walt Darling episode can be enjoyed on its own, but if you liked this story and want to read more, let me encourage you to go back to the beginning and read them all :)
< Introduction | The Almost First Kiss | The New Game | The Rollercoaster of Oops | The Talk | The Actual First Kiss >
After last installment’s uneasy ending, and inspired by Chuck Palahniuk’s post on sustained joy, for this, Walt’s actual first kiss post (finally!), I hoped to catch the feeling of “no worries for the rest of our days’ and express the satisfaction of winning after a long game full of unforced errors. Did I succeed? Please heart and let me know in the comments. If you laughed so hard you peed your pants (ahem, Emma, seriously, again?), please tell me AND share with a friend.
And if you didn’t like it and would prefer to unsubscribe, do it! Or if you want, you can manage your subscription to receive all my posts EXCEPT for the Walt Darling chapters, or to receive ONLY the Walt Darling chapters! Or, and this last one is my secret hope and desire, you love it so much, it reminded you of your own precious ups and down of youth and love and you want to recommend Walt Darling to all your friends and former lovers.
Whatever you want! You choose! But choose wisely! Because “we do mean that every one of us must choose himself; but by that we also mean that in choosing for himself, he chooses for all men…”
Really nice visuals and sensory details throughout. I really felt like I was in the theater as an innocent bystander.
The phone cord pulled me in.
Walt stole Bud's palm circling move! Or I guess Bud stole Walt's, since Walt came first, historically speaking. Regardless... nice move.
So much kissing. I never got to kiss anyone like that in middle school. Or high school even. But I witnessed a lot of it, weirdly enough. This story, like my actual experience, allowed me to engage with vicarious envy. Thanks for not rushing it.
The piece at the end where Walt talks to his son about consent made me weepy. There are so many ways for people to go wrong because they just don't know enough to go right. This moment is so huge and valuable for anyone who's been on any side of consent and the lessons around it. Really powerful stuff, Wil.
Well done.