Almost Kissed

Back in the summer and fall of 1988, I lived with my aunt and uncle in Alexandria, Virginia. Their house was near the Huntington Metro stop, and every day I took the train into the city. I worked at a gourmet food store in the Dupont Circle neighborhood, which was a gay neighborhood at the time. There were gay bars around, and the gay bookstore Lambda Rising, and my friend Nathan lived in the neighborhood.

I worked in the bakery, and there was a cute boy who worked in the deli on the other side of the store. He was always pleasant and polite. I got the impression that he was straight, though, and in any event, I never imagined he would be interested in me, but that didn’t stop me from looking. He was just my type--sweet natured and thin with a boyish face and blond hair. Every chance I got, I stole a glimpse.

The kitchen and the supplies were down in the basement, so I made regular trips down there throughout my shifts. And one day when I came out of the kitchen and headed up the narrow stairs, I found the boy from the deli that I liked was in front of me. I didn’t say anything because it would have been awkward for him to turn around. I figured I’d say hello to him once we reached the top.

Apparently he didn’t realize I was behind him, and he started moving up the stairs at a glacial pace. It was ridiculous how slow he was moving, and I quickly realized that he was deliberately wasting time. He was taking a little unauthorized break from his work. I certainly didn’t blame him for that, but I was right behind him, and after a while, it felt a little strange.

Normally I’m very shy, but every now and then, I manage to be a little playful even with people I don’t know very well, even with cute presumably straight guys. And on a whim, I lowered my voice and said with menacing authority, hoping that I sounded like our boss, “Alright, let’s try to get up these stairs a bit faster.”

I must have really startled the boy because he suddenly sprang to life and spun around before I finished my sentence. When he saw that it was just me, his expression turned to relief, and he let out a sigh. But then he pretended to be angry with me and did something unexpected. He grabbed me by my collar and pushed me against the wall. And then his face was very close to mine.

Knowing that I scared him, if just for a moment, made me laugh, and I continued to laugh when he grabbed me. But after a couple of seconds, it registered that his face very, very close to mine. His lips were very, very close to mine. And he held us in this position for a while.

When my giggles trailed off, and the situation was in danger of becoming awkward, he let go, dropped the pretence of anger, smiled and said, “You scared the shit out of me.” We then went on up the stairs. A couple of weeks later, I quit and I never saw him again. But not long after that I began to wonder if I had almost been kissed on those stairs by that cute blond boy. I now wish I had been daring enough to kiss him. All it would have taken would have been for me to pucker and our lips would have touched. That’s how close he was to me.