That Time I Kissed a Girl and Liked It Because I Was Attracted to Her
Not because it was trendy
Kissing a woman helped me find myself.
That day, I shifted from a straight-passing, erased bisexual to an out-and-proud queer woman.
I recognize now that I’m pansexual, but didn’t have the word in the 1990s. Before the kiss, being bi was only an idea.
My early 20s are mostly a blur, but my first kiss is memorable.
I think her name was Kris. We were getting drunk during Pride at the beach, and I must’ve seen her in the beer garden. That was back when I drank more often than I didn’t, but both of us were only buzzed at that point.
She’s significantly taller than I am, and we were lying on the grass so we could be face-to-face and body-to-body. I was on top of her, feeling all the feelings.
In the heat of Santa Barbara sun, under the bluest of skies and the whisper of a cool Pacific breeze, we had our moment. We got quiet, made eye contact, and I touched my lips to hers.
We were magnificently slow and tender, despite being in the middle of a big queer drunkfest. We paused and smiled into each other’s blue eyes as I delighted in my discovery.
