Only the other day I realized that my first kiss sounds like a very kitschy gay porn title. Yet it was a remarkably good experience, I think, all things considered.
I might not remember my first kiss, because most of my childhood memories were erased. It's not the sort of thing one does on purpose, nor did I know it was happening, but when you're on the receiving end of sexual abuse for years, it's the norm to forget big parts of your life.
I don't think I was ever kissed by my abuser though.
It was a few months after the horrific event of being raped. I was completely alone in a place bigger than I've ever lived in, and it accentuated the feeling of emptiness. I was left in the care of my middle brother's friend.
He was "loose" with me even when his friends were around, which drew dirty and confused looks from them. Me? I was like a puppy that found a new owner. I literally rolled over on the floor and let him rub my belly. Literally.
I didn't have any problems with morality or even a passing thought about sexually transmitted diseases. I didn't think after the rape. About anything.
I was in denial. It was so bad that some of the days I just lived because I existed. Weeks went by without me having had any food. I didn't shower, I went to school only if I felt like it, and no one was there to wash my clothes except my brother's friend.
I have to admit, you know, I didn't know him that well. He was a sweet man, basically. He let me stay home if I didn't want to go to school. In a way, he taught me that I don't have to follow the system.
One rainy night, he came home soaking wet, bringing me some food. I was already wet, from cleaning the terraces of our house from the leaves that fall from the coconut trees that hang over our house. The power went out the moment he came in. We decided to go upstairs onto the highest terrace as both of us were soaking wet. He stood there for a while, as I recall, and I just stood on the opposite side, letting the wind drive needle-like drops of ice cold rain drops into my face. I felt like feeling the drops of rain fall on my face so I first sat and then laid down on the terrace.
He walked over and looked down at me. I smiled at him. He then laid down perpendicular to me… with his head on my bread basket. Specifically, French loaf.
No big deal… because, well, come on, it was in the cold rain!
I decided to go back indoors, because it was almost freezing with a gale force wind picking up.
After we dried off, he came to sleep in the same room because there sill wasn't any power and I used to be terrified of the dark. He was supposed to look after me after all. At first, he was on a mattress on the floor and I was on the bed. He started poking me, so I poked back. We tease each other a lot, after all. As I said, I always thought he was a nice man, and have a lot of fun with him.
A little while later, power comes on and the fan starts making things colder than Antarctica in winter. He climbed into my bed and hugged me from behind because I said it was too cold, and I thought that was very nice.
Then he started to grope me.
I thought, "I am so naïve."
I groped back.
He takes my hand in his and says, "What's this?"
I take his hand in mine and say, "What's this?"
We fondle each other for a couple more moments.
Then I turned over and we kissed.