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Monday, February 11, 2013

My - grrr - First Kiss

17)


The coming years were dreadfully boring because it surely wasn’t what I wanted to do, learn and work. I fought to be accepted as a buddy and not as the daughter of this ‘other’ big shot who was friends with the boss here. My colleagues first saw me as a ditzy cow and assumed I’d tell on them.
Oh, far from it! I unloaded my best tomboy acts, jumped out the windows, collected dead mice from the nearby fields and presented them gift-wrapped to our old-fashioned Lady-accountant.
I was fortunate and lucky though to have a very understanding chief who always encouraged me:
“I know, Johanna, you are doing what your father wants. But come on, let’s get through this. One day you will have finished school and your apprenticeship here. Then you go home and succeed in your company. Let’s get through this together.”

Breaking the daily monotony was a colleague who had my unlimited adoration. The days were saved when I saw his jacket hanging on the designated hook in the morning when I came in. I knew he would be there and the day wouldn’t be so tedious. It took us two years until we, on the occasion of a company get-together, switched over to a first name basis.

It’s called: Drink to brotherhood. Cheers! He even kissed me and I was on cloud seven.
We had two or three dates walking through woods and fields when I belied my big mouth and became world champion in the art of head-turning (away). I was 17.

It was a thrilling adventure and then a disheartening shock for me when Werner abruptly stopped paying attention to me.
Our boss of course found out about our hanky-panky. He felt responsible for me ergo threatened Werner to fire him if he doesn’t stop seeing me.
I finally felt at ease going with a guy but now I was heartbroken; I knew nothing about the threat and only learned what happened many years later.

I had received my primary kiss a year before by a youngling; it caused me countless months of nightmares. It felt awful! I was disgusted! Yet it should have been sweet, walking on this little rivulet and a full moon being visible.
Suddenly this smug boy stopped, grabbed my shoulders and turned me towards him.
Oh dear! Now it’s going to happen, I thought to myself. And he smells so intensive and intrusive. He used way too much cologne! “Pitralon” was the name of this sharp smelling stuff.
Then the kiss came. I looked at the moon, was aware how yucky his tongue felt and told myself that I probably should close my eyes now – and clap!, shut them.
I was so confused and ashamed, shaken with agitation that I immediately hated this guy.
Being smitten with Werner helped me to get over it a little. But after graduation I lost sight of him. Werner went on joining the police force and became a significant big shot after all.

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