My First Kiss: Hell Here I Come!

Most people have their first kiss at school, in the back of a car, on the front porch, or at a dance, right? I had mine in the only place a controlled, sheltered preacher's daughter could have: In my bed. I will explain. :)

On one of my very few visits out into the "world" I met a waiter at the Spaghetti Factory who was beyond cute. Since I didn't get out much, I thought this was the most exciting day of my seventeen years so far. We had gone as a youth group to Seattle and stopped to eat. I whispered to my friends, blushed, smiled at him and thought he was teasing me when he came to the table and asked where I was from (surely I was not the type to have this older nineteen year old flirt with me?). I don't think I could even answer him I was so shy. My friends told him what church we were from.

Two weeks later, at the end of a thrilling sermon about hell's flames, the rapture and why women should always be submissive to their husbands, (no, I really don't remember the sermon, but it is safe to say he covered at least one of these topics) one of my friends excitedly pointed to the back row of the church where LeRoy, the waiter from the Spaghetti House, was sitting, smiling at me as I saw him. I seriously lost my heart, temporarily, and could not breathe. I had no idea how he found this church. It was a tiny church in Port Orchard, Washington, in the middle of the woods. It was like a surreal experience to see him there. After church he ran up to talk to me, which got me some severe and angry looks from my parents. (I am sure they were thinking... who the heck is that OLDER man- he had a mustache-talking to Lori? We need to get her away from him now! She looks way to happy!) I had no idea why he would talk to me, but the warmth spreading through my body told me I did not want him to stop. We chatted for about a half hour before I was whisked away to the house across the street. I found out later that he had ridden his bike (bicycle) from Seattle to the ferry, taken the ferry to Bremerton (1 hour) then got on another ferry to Port Orchard (1/2 hour) and ridden his bike from the ferry (long ride) to see me!

He immediately started writing to me, and I could not stop thinking about him after that day. I was so angry at my parents for lecturing me about not being allowed to date, asking me who this guy was and what he wanted with their daughter (thanks a lot mom and dad! Am I that unattractive that it is so hard to believe a handsome man would want to date me?) and giving me a long set of Christian rules to go by. If you read my last blog entry, then you know that I was on a mission to find someone to kiss me. This guy seemed to be a good candidate for sure!

LeRoy, who I am pretty sure had no interest in church, came faithfully to church every Sunday. He eventually got a motorcycle, which thrilled my dad beyond belief. (lol) He somehow charmed my mom enough to talk himself into our Sunday dinners after church sometimes and was occasionally allowed to stay between services on Sunday afternoon. But we were watched very carefully and never allowed to be alone. This went on for 3 freaking months! I was so scared to let him get near me, because I guess I feared that things would be all downhill from there- lol (What a lot of faith I had in my self-control) But really, I knew he wanted to kiss me, and I really wanted to kiss him, and I had no idea how we would ever get alone. So, one day LeRoy suggested that he could stay after church, wait until my parents went to bed, and then I could sneak out of my bedroom window and we could be alone in the woods together. I compromised, not wanting to leave the house, and we decided that he would just sneak into the room.

I waited all evening in my bed wearing a very sheer pink nightgown. I thought of my family. My parents' room was upstairs and on the opposite side of the house. It was very rare that they came downstairs once they went to bed. My sisters were up there with them. My brothers had a room across the hall with a bathroom between us. I knew I was taking a HUGE risk. It was a warm summer evening in Washington State, and I was shaking like a leaf. I started thinking that perhaps this was a bad idea. My bed was right up against the window and I was sprawled across the bed staring up at the moon and night sky. When I heard the soft tap on the window I almost screamed. I opened the old wooden framed window and helped LeRoy climb into the room. He smelled like Chaps Cologne and cigarettes. I started shaking more than before. I was scared to whisper. He seemed to sense my fear and tried to calm me. We laid back on the bed and he waited a few minutes while stroking my hands, so softly. Then he sat up and leaned down over me. His warm lips touched mine and I was lost in his kisses. With his clothes still on, he got on top of me and we kissed for hours. I was shaking so much that I really am not sure I enjoyed it as much as I should have. That night, Leroy never touched me anywhere, except to kiss my lips. But his hard man "tool" (lol) pressing into me indicated that I am sure he wanted to! By the time Leory left my room at 3:00 A.M. my newly kissed lips were swollen and my mouth was tired. I felt exhausted; initiated into the world of kissing.

I never slept that night. I wondered if God had seen or even cared what I did. Would God really send a young girl to hell for such a "sin?" Why would this God of ours create us in such a way that we wanted to kiss, love, and have sex and then condemn us for being that way? I often thought about God and felt angry at him for so many things. As I teen, I felt he ruined my life by making my parents so strict that I was not allowed to experience things like other teens. Sometimes I was angry and did not even know why. Now I do.

I knew I could never tell my mother about my first kiss. When she asked, much later, I lied and told her that he had kissed me once, and quickly, behind the kitchen door when we had a minute when no one was in the kitchen. I feel sad that I couldn't tell my mom the truth. I felt so evil and ashamed of myself for sneaking a man into my room. I wondered what my parents would have done if they had found him in my room. But, even with all that guilt and shame, I still found ways to do more and more with my boyfriend.

We never actually had "intercourse" but we sure did try everything else. We dated for two years. He even moved down to Florida when my parents took us all across the country because of a dispute between the pastor and my dad (to this day I have no idea what that was). I eventually found out that Leroy was not the man for me, but I am grateful to him for a wonderful memory so many years later. And actually, I am grateful to LeRoy for giving me one more reason to doubt the existence of God.