A 20-year-old confession

A memory

Me in second grade (no longer have my first-grade yearbook!)
Me in second grade (no longer have my first-grade yearbook!)

I am 6 years old and in first grade. Jason is my boyfriend.

I’m not sure how this happened, but it had something to do with my sticker book and two pigs kissing and I showed it to him and he liked it.

Later I decide I don’t want to have a boyfriend anymore. I had dropped a Cheeto on the ground during recess, so I pick it up and offer it to Jason. He takes it, not knowing it had been dropped, and in my mind, our relationship is over. He later moves away. (I’m fairly certain it’s not due to trauma over our breakup.)


Fastforward 4 years. I’m 10 years old and in fifth grade. BFF Amy and I are having a slumber party, and Amy is telling me about her first kiss, a boy from church. It seems, at the time, a very steamy first kiss. Then she turns to me, asks, “Tell me about your first kiss!”

Jason in second grade. Do you like the hearts? Apparently it was an amicable breakup.
Jason in second grade. Do you like the hearts? Apparently it was an amicable breakup.

Ack! I haven’t had my first kiss yet! I have to save face though. Jason has long moved away, so who would know the difference?

“It was in first grade,” I say. “I had this boyfriend, named Jason …” I continue with a completely fabricated story about how we were on the tire ring climbing thing – on the very top rung, and we had a french kiss. Of course it was very wonderful and romantic.


Fastforward 3 years. I’m 13 years old and in eighth grade. New boy moves in – Jason. His last name sounds familiar, but I can’t quite place it … We all become friends with him, hang out for a few months … Then one day, it hits me! I rush home, find my 1985 yearbook, and … yup. My first-grade beau.

Of course I share this info with BFF Amy. Amy approaches Jason, says to him, “So, is it true about you and Melissa …” meaning the steamy kiss of course.

“Yup,” he answers, meaning the relationship of course.

So Amy approaches me, tells me she has a confession to make. She hadn’t really kissed that boy she claimed to have kissed from church. She was lying to try to make herself look cool. She assumed I’d been lying too, but now Jason’s back and real and I clearly wasn’t lying.

Here’s where it gets bad: I NEVER set the record straight. Never told her I had been lying too! I had the perfect chance, then, to tell her, and I let it slip right by.


Fastforward 17 years. I’m 30 and way out of school. I still think about this — how I had the chance to tell her the truth, and I never did. Why, I still don’t know. She had been lying too, so she couldn’t have been mad at me. Maybe because Jason became my unknowing alibi, I just figured I’d continue with the ruse … who knows?

So Amy, here I am to tell you now: I never kissed Jason, not in first grade or any other time. I’m sorry for lying to you and I’m sorry I never told you when you told me about your fib.

My first kiss was actually Chad, at a youth group lock-in in 8th grade during a game of truth or dare.

It was very steamy and romantic … oh wait, there I go again …