Lesson Twelve: Sometimes You're Better Off Kissing Your Pillow.

I was pretty green when it came to boys and kissing, the only experience I’d ever had of kissing was with the back of my hand and my pillow, until I met Michael Moon.

It was the May School Holidays; I was 12 and staying with my grandparents in Whangamata along with my 11-year-old cousin Vilina. Despite our one-year age gap, Vilina was a lot more experienced with boys (that’s what happens when you grow up in Tokoroa) a lot more confident and boisterous.

One day at the Estuary we met these two boys – Michael Moon and his cousin Mark who were staying with their Grandfather close by. They were about a year older than us and my cousin liked Mark instantly so I was left with Michael.  Mark was tall, blonde, blue-eyed; Michael was a shorter, chubbier, less cute version.

They invited us back to the Estuary later that night so we went under the pretence to Nana Tolson that we were going for a walk with some friends and off we went to meet them. Sure enough they were there and together we sat in a circle on a sand dune and started playing Dare, Truth or Promise.

Somehow (and what a coincidence) “dare” was selected and Vilina was dared to kiss Mark. Then it was my turn and Michael Moon was dared to kiss me. It was a peck on the mouth, which left me relieved and disappointed at the same time. Then Vilina disappeared with Mark a few metres from us and Michael asked if he could kiss me again. By this time it was dark and I was imagining I was kissing Rob Lowe as Michael’s face got closer and lips met mine.  I was excited and nervous at the same time hoping he would know what he was doing when I felt his tongue zapping all over my lips. It forced it’s way in there and all of a sudden my mouth and my chin were drenched in his saliva.  To this day I’m not sure where the hell it came from because once his tongue got in there it just sat there, all limp and somehow the saliva bomb went off.

Miss Green here thought it must be normal so we kept “pashing” even though both sleaves of my jersey were pretty damp from me having to constantly wipe my mouth dry.

Michael: “That was great Natasha – you’re a really good kisser”.

Me: “A-ha…” wiping my mouth dry again “….you too Michael”.  I never saw or kissed him again.

So that day, not only did I experience my first and worst kiss ever, I also learnt that sometimes you need to lie to avoid hurting a guy's feelings, and that I was better off practicing my kissing on my pillow.