On Passion and Potato Chips, aka Deb Linda Ponders her Firsts

I’ve had a lot of publishing-related “firsts” in the past few years–first agent, first book sold, first editor, first time holding my physical book in my hands (an advance reader copy), first review on Goodreads, first publicist, first pre-release interview request, and first email from a stranger who’s actually read my book and loved it (whoo! that was a rush), to name a few. Okay, to name several.

So, when I started panic about this week’s “Deb’s Choice” topic I got to thinking about firsts in general, and remembered a post I made on my own blog a couple of years ago. It’s about my first kiss, which fit nicely into the embarrassment theme bouncing from blog to blog that day.


~Begin Flashback~

On Passion and Potato Chips

It seems it’s Embarrassing Moment Day in the blogosphere. Topics have ranged from hurking in underwear to unintentionally sucking down ink, with pit stops for flipping out hats and slurping up frog guts.

How can I top any of that?

Well, I can’t. Not really. Though there was this one time I found excruciatingly embarrassing, so I guess I can share that.

Now, I was tall and gawky as a kid, and spent a good deal of time wilting under the teasing barbs of my older brothers and their friends.




“Flatso.” (Yup, a perennial favorite.)

Nothing too mean-spirited (and believe me, I could dish it out as well as I could take it), but still. It stung.

Then something magical happened. *cue the sound of trumpets* Puberty.

Seemingly overnight I was hit with a “curves” ball. Oh, not in the Marilyn Monroe league, but suddenly it was apparent I was a girl. Also, I got contact lenses. And boy, did my brothers’ friends notice. Which ticked off my brothers no end, but, hey, they deserved it.

One day, *tries to think of a suitable pseudonym* um, Hotney… (Taken from the other part of “hot-rod,” which contains his name…are you following this? Pay attention.)

ANYway, Hotney showed up one day when my middle brother (two years my senior, as was Hotney) wasn’t home. Which was just fine with Hotney, who said he’d be happy to wait, and did I want to keep him company while he waited?

And he didn’t even call me Twiggy.

Well. Be still my heart. My brother’s friend, whom half of the high school had a crush on, wanted to be in the same room with me. On purpose!

I got us some Cokes and chips while he settled in front of the TV. As we chatted I couldn’t help but notice he was inching closer to me. Ack! My inexperienced little heart was beating out a rhythm like a beatnik on bongos. Was he going to kiss me?

He was!

And I had never been kissed before.

(Unless you count the time my best childhood friend, John–yes, my best friend was a boy–and I bumped lips for a fraction of a second when we were nine years old. But there were no tongues involved then, and, being a well-read young lady, I was fairly sure tongues were involved when teenagers kissed.)

What to do? I mean, technically, I wasn’t even allowed to date until I was sixteen. Of course, my logical brain brain argued, this wasn’t really a date, was it? (At least, I’m pretty sure it was my brain arguing…but never mind. That’s not really the pertinent part of the story.)

As Hotney leaned in closer, I panicked. Stall, stall, stall! I needed time to work out in my head exactly what I should do with my lips when he connected. I felt…ill-prepared. So I did what any girl would when the hottest guy in school was zooming in on her mouth–I stuffed it full of potato chips at the last second.

To no avail. Too late to stop his landing, Hotney completed his mission.

It didn’t last long. Hotney did not deepen the kiss to anything like the ones my friends and I had read–and giggled–about. (Can’t say as I blame him.)

As for me–well, I was so mortified I jumped up and ran out of the den, making some excuse about hearing my mother calling me. Hotney was gone when I got up the nerve to return.

We never spoke of it afterward, and he never asked me out. My brother never teased me about the episode, so I guess Hotney never mentioned it to him. Probably was afraid of getting beat up. *shrug*

So, how do I remember my first “real” kiss?

Well, it was…salty.

~End Flashback~

Hmm. Come to think of it, that’s how I’m guessing readers might remember my books … *grin*

So, do what are some of your notable firsts? (They don’t have to be embarrassing. Though it might be more fun for me if they are. Just sayin’.)

24 Replies to “On Passion and Potato Chips, aka Deb Linda Ponders her Firsts”

  1. my first kiss? i cut my lip on his braces(more specifically, those little hook things the dentists used to put in that you hooked the rubberbands to from top to bottom). not fun. so very memorable and not in a very good way. eh *shrugs* i think we all have those kinds of stories, right? RIGHT?!?

    1. Ouch! And, yeah, I think everyone has those kinds of stories. At least, I LIKE to think so. Wouldn’t life be boring without them?

  2. Linda, what a wonderful post! I love every detail and I LOVE that he was your brother’s friend–just perfect.

    It has been so special sharing this year of “firsts” with you–and your FIRST launch is right around the corner (No pressure! First kisses are more nerve-wracking, I think πŸ˜‰ )

    1. ACK! Just the word “launch” gives me butterflies now.

      It’s been great sharing this year of firsts with you, too. πŸ™‚

  3. My first kiss wasn’t any less embarrassing than yours. I’m starting to wonder if anyone’s is, actually. We were in the school hallway, and I was a ball of nerves after his best friend told my best friend to tell me he was going to kiss me. He pinned me up against a brick wall and moved in for the kill – my last thought before he brought it home was that if I ducked he’d smash his face into the bricks – and then it was over. It was…wet.

    I “broke up” (we were in 8th grade) with him the next day and he threw his tray in the cafeteria. Oh, the drama.

    Good story! Poor ol, Hotney.

  4. GREAT story! I don’t remember my first kiss–(shows you how great it must have been)

    I do remember being asked out for the first time in 4th grade! Boys weren’t even on my radar at that time. He cornered me when everybody was outside playing kickball and goody goody me was by myself cleaning the chalkboard for the teacher. At the end of the game everyone knew about it even the teacher. LOL She knew I said no and didn’t like him, but she pulled me aside and said, “well, it’s nice to be asked though.” πŸ™‚

    1. Aww. That’s a good lesson to learn. Even if we don’t reciprocate certain emotions, it’s good to appreciate them in others. πŸ™‚

      (Well, as long as they don’t become stalkers…)

  5. I love this story SO MUCH! These are the kinds of stories that I make up and put in books because they’re so real and humiliating and perfectly charming.
    My mom reads this blog so I’m not telling you ANYTHING about my first kiss so Mom can go on thiking it was on my wedding night.
    But have you heard the story about how I got the call from my agent when my book got an offer and I told her I was going out into the hall to poop my pants? That’s a good one, huh?

    1. LOL! Now, that’s the best reaction to “the call” I’ve ever heard. Definitely a good one.

      Only I still really want to hear about your first kiss, too.

  6. I think my first kiss was made most embarrassing by the fact that I was the ancient age of 18 when it happened. The kiss itself was a one-second lip bump after a first date. He left, and I stood there thinking, “That’s IT?!?” Jeez.

    1. Okay let’s talk about embarrassing. I totally screwed this up. The boy was way too old for me. I was way too young for him. I made myself sound like a pervert. I mean, I am, but not in this case. Geez.

  7. LOL This story is awesome! I’m not exactly sure when my first kiss was, but the first one that lasted for more than a nanosecond was wet. Didn’t matter. He smelled so good that I sniffed the couch after he went home. Woops. Did I just type that aloud?

  8. I was skiing with my 9th grade boyfriend, and we were riding the chair lift up to the top of the hill. It was January in Minnesota; my nose was probably running. He told me he was going to kiss me. I asked him if I should take my retainer out first. He said no. *smacks head*

    Strangely, as disgusting as that sounds, I still remember the whole thing as being terribly romantic.

    1. Awww. That does sound romantic. And I think it’s great that you were comfortable with him enough to ask about your retainer. πŸ™‚

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