The Last First Time

It was 10 years ago today that I had my last first kiss. I remember every delicious detail of it. You were lying on the couch in the downstairs TV room at your parents' house. I was sitting on the edge of the couch. Looking into your eyes. Contemplating the idea of you. It didn't occur to me then that would be the last time I'd ever kiss a man for the first time.

I went to see you in Vermont for the weekend. We were in that weird pre-boyfriend/girlfriend phase where you could sense the chemistry between us, but I wouldn't give into being in a relationship. It was a weekend for a lot of firsts for us. The first time we kissed, the first time you tried to teach me how to water ski. The first time your warm hand reached across my bare belly as we were swimming at Buttermilk Falls, and you were trying to pull me behind the waterfall. The first time I stared at you in awe, impressed by your natural ability to show me a good time, your natural ability to set the scene for me.

I spent the weekend staring at you, but trying not to get caught staring at you. You drove the truck to the lake, and I very unsuccessfully pretended to look out the window on the other side of you. You caught me, but let me feign staring out the window.

Todd, the last 10 years have been the best I've ever had. Thank you for what you add to my life. Thank you for the life we've created together, without you none of it would be possible. Thank you for making me laugh every single day.

Thank you for being the last man I will ever kiss.