Glad it's over

Even before it registers in my mind, my sub-conscious knows.
So even though I don’t know why I feel the way I do, every fibre of my being is processing it long before I acknowledge it’s December 9th.

It’s one of those days that holds too many memories. W-a-y too much baggage attached to that date in history, kinda like my wedding anniversary. And, despite my best efforts to redefine that day; getting married is too big an event to bury with new memories.

December 9th was the day of my first date. A Christmas dance at my Jr. Hi school. I was 15 years old and had been asked by the President of the Student Council. My mom bought me a long, slinky blue and turquoise striped dress from the Sears catalog that fit me like a long slinky dress should. She drove me to the school, and I met a girlfriend at the door.

It took awhile to find my date; he was in charge of the event and was busy getting details looked after. (Details were substantial as he had hired a band, Bowser Moon; not just a DJ.)

Eventually he took my hand and invited me onto the dance floor. Fast dancing was fun, although I noticed that he seemed to be hearing a different song in his head than the rest of us. He was definitely moving to a beat with a faster, less even tempo.

It was inevitable that just before the band broke for their break they played the stretched out version of Led Zepplin’s Stairway to Heaven. My first kiss will forever be linked to that ballad. His lips locked on mine for the entire duration of that song, plus an additional 10 minutes into the intermission.

My memory of that event wasn’t so much the actual kiss, but the discussion that took place afterwards in the girl’s bathroom.
“Jane! We were timing you! That was like, 20 minutes long!”
“Really? It felt like an hour.”
“Well….”
“It felt like two warms slugs were mating on my lips.”
“Ewww.”
“And my gum! It disintegrated. Fell totally apart. Into a zillion pieces.”
“Whadya do?”
"They’re still in my mouth. I shoved them way back to the corner. I can’t even spit them out, there’s so many. I’ve never had gum do that before. Wonder if it was like a chemical reaction? His spit and my spit together caused some sort of break down in the chewiness of the gum…”
“So, are you guys ‘going around’?”
“NO. He hasn’t asked. I don’t know if he really likes me. He probably only asked me to the dance to be nice. He could date anyone… When he realizes what a nerd I am…”

I guess the rest is history.
I never dated anyone else. We ‘went around’ for 7 years, then got married.
And 25 years later, on December 9, 2001, my divorce from the guy who fervently kissed me in the school gym, was finalized.

Every year this bloody day knocks me on my ass.