By Melissa Tapper Goldman, cross-posted from the Huffington Post:
I’m going to tell you my first kiss story. By the summer after eighth grade, my desperation for male attention had reached a fever pitch. It’s not that I was a late bloomer, but simply awkward in a way that still makes my face scrunch up when I think about it 18 years later. I had a lot of time on my hands without a boyfriend, and I used much of it to imagine in slow-mo how we would make out once I did manage to recruit any old guy. The bar was low. Having watched, enthralled, the then-new drama My So-Called Life, maybe I should have seen the seeds of discord. However, I was resolute. I wanted a Jordan Catalano for real, and I wasn’t going to be some wuss like Angela with all these personal boundaries and ideals… Read on at Huff Post Women.
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