By Rix Quinn
We Baby Boomers grew up watching semi-romantic movies, most of which included a smooching event.
The leading characters might be pictured in a car, with the man’s arm draped over the lady’s shoulder. At some point the conversation would turn romantic.
“I feel so comfortable being here with you,” he might say. “This has been the greatest night of my life.”
He would kiss her cheek. She would turn her face toward his, and close her eyes. That was his signal to lock lips.
But that never happened to me.
I would sit with my date in the car, talking about everything…but nothing romantic. I didn’t know what to say.
At some point she would utter, “Well, I guess I better go in.”.
So I would take her to the door, say “I had a great time,” and give her a warm, sincere handshake.
My first kiss was accidental. I took the girl to her front porch, tripped and fell forward.
My head fell against her neck, my lips brushing her cheek. She thought that was a kiss. I was glad.
From that point forward, my dating life improved. But for me, “falling in love” was an actual event.
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