There are some songs that are hidden so deep within the vault of my musical memories that I hardly remember then at all, that is, until I hear them again. Some of those songs hit a momentary rewind button and I find myself basking in the glimpse of a past life chapter, and often happily singing-a-long. Other songs unlock the vault and open the door a little too wide, letting loose a myriad of emotions that I am often ill prepared to meet up with, but they keep running towards me, regardless.

It was the start of my first Summer after High School. I was newly an “adult” in years and in the midst of that awkward stage of post-graduation and pre-college, and everything appeared to me as a fuzzy blur. Most days I had no idea where I was going, or who would be going with me. There was this boy…

And isn’t there always a boy, except in those instances that start with “there was this girl…”

He was a friend of  a family friend and he was a true unknown. He was just that much older to seem out of reach, with piercing blue eyes that seemed pulled from the movies, and a cocky kind of confidence of the Han Solo ilk. I was a goner immediately, and whenever he looked my way I could feel my face blush. Luckily the blush was only apparent to me as we were in the dark confines of a dive bar, the house lights turned down, watching said family friend’s son band do their best covers of Sex Pistols and Clash songs.

I sang along quietly as I knew all those songs by heart. He would later tell me he kept looking my way wondering why the girl with all the songs was not up there singing them with the band.

I had no idea how to flirt with a person of interest. For that matter, I had no idea how to determine whether a person of interest was interested, or flirting back at me. I did notice that he had a crooked smile that lifted up more on the left side of his mouth, that he smelled of  Clove cigarettes and department store cologne, and that when he leaned in close to talk to me that first time I could feel that his tee shirt was becoming threadbare from too many spins in the washing machine. Those details, I breathed them in and held them close, hoping to save them for later to mull over while I lay in bed trying to sleep. They were kept so well that I can still bring them forward now, many years later, with the listen of a long-lost song.

He kissed me that same night. It was one of three very unexpected kisses I have received in my life, not my first kiss, but my first unexpected one. I replayed it in my head countless times, and like those tiny details about him, I can recall that kiss just as clear. I spent the rest of that Summer so in love with him, though most of what I felt was in vain. I did see him one other time, and shared my first truly passionate exchange of kisses ever. Our bodies were pressed so close together, my back against my bedroom door, his hands everywhere all at once. Heat and want and emotion all spinning in a humid swirl, and I was like Alice, falling, falling, falling, falling into him.

It was love at first kiss, and, like I said, I was truly a goner.

So in Love :: OMD