I was a shy, introverted university student. Just 20 years old. Pimply and self-conscious. Poor social skills especially with girls, but very gentle, calm, intellectually gifted, a top student in every subject. I loved math but I took every course I could find in arts and sciences. I loved the idea of becoming a Renaissance-man type of intellectual. I also loved music, and was obsessed with classical piano. I could play a lot of the most advanced repertoire, but I have to admit I didn't really have true talent--I should have applied my efforts elsewhere. Yet I did put my heart into it, and some pieces I could play beautifully and with passion.
I'd always badly wanted a girlfriend. I had an intense sex drive and a vivid erotic imagination, but I didn't have the charisma or nerve or social skills at the time to actually meet girls. I would instead have crushes and brood over them, but would never actually do anything useful about them, except maybe the occasional awkward introduction with a total stranger which totally flopped. I was attracted to a wide variety of different "types" but probably my favourite was very feminine, maybe slightly eccentric shy girls who were quiet and very intellectual just like I was.
That year I joined a casual choir group which practiced in the university chapel, which was a remote, dingy area in an old part of the building which almost nobody ever used. It wasn't a religious group, but the setting was very serene and meditative, quite nice especially since it was almost a secret place that few people knew about. The choir director was a bit odd and eccentric, and the small group attracted other slightly odd folks. A few people were quite good at music, and had sung in choirs etc. before, but most were just there as a casual, fun activity. We would practice a variety of songs, but the director especially liked medieval or renaissance period pieces. Practicing there in that old building made you feel like you were back in the middle ages. We sometimes had little performances, such as in the art gallery nearby, and sometimes we would have little social events such as going out together for dinners.
Melanie was one of the girls in the choir. She was a few years older than me, in her early 20s. Quiet, introverted, very intellectual, and eccentric. Her appearance was very plain by most people's standards. She was about 5'8". Very thin, on the verge of looking anorexic. Vegetarian. Pale skin which almost looked sickly, but no blemishes. Pale blue-grey eyes that conveyed her intelligence but also her oddness. Stringy shoulder-length light brown hair. A very skinny neck and tiny, delicate chin. No makeup ever. Her neck had a hint of pale, downy hair on it which was a little bit odd but strangely sexy. Scrawny limbs, and a little bit of a stooped posture. She had delicate, graceful hands but bit her nails, which was the one thing I found quite unappealing. She had very noticeably crooked teeth, which I grew to find oddly erotic. She would always dress plainly, usually in thrift store sweaters and pants, that would have a slightly musty smell that I grew to associate with her. She must have had very small breasts, hidden under her thrift store sweaters. This has led to my lifelong attraction to small-breasted, skinny women. The overall impression of her appearance was that she looked "medieval" -- like a woman you'd see in a medieval-period painting, with a serene, mystical look, pretty but pale and maybe a little bit malnourished.
Sometimes I would play the piano at the chapel, and one day Melanie was there early for choir, and noticed me. This was the beginning of our friendship. I discovered that she was very intelligent but had a somewhat odd background, and a variety of odd beliefs. For example, she was really into astrology. She didn't really have any musical talent in my opinion but had taken up the piano, with a somewhat deluded belief that she could become a concert pianist. Overall, I found her really interesting. She got me into reading more widely. I appreciated that she was interested in me, sought me out, and wanted to spend time with me.
One day we were at the chapel alone, a few minutes before choir practice. She liked to come there to read or study, and I sometimes liked to come play the piano there. We had a friendly chat as usual, and we were standing at the front of the chapel next to the piano. Suddenly, she reached up with one hand and gently brushed a lock of my hair sideways on my forehead. Then she quickly and decisively leaned forward and kissed me.
It was my first kiss.
From the first moment she rhythmically throbbed her tongue in and out of my mouth. I could taste her, permanently engrained in my memory. Her taste for vegetarian spices and Jamaican curry. Maybe even the slightest hint of bad breath but that particular taste became a powerful erotic memory. Her throbbing tongue was strong and pulsing and passionate. Nobody has ever kissed me better than that. Her crooked upper teeth bumped against mine, and this too became imprinted on my mind as supremely erotic. Some people have a natural sensuality, an uninhibited eroticism that is like a sublime talent. She had that. I drooled a bit and she gently wiped it away with her finger with a little smile.
Our kiss lasted only about a minute but from that point I was in love. It was the most erotic, passionate moment of my entire life, and even now after decades of experience with many different partners, nothing can ever approach that moment.
Afterwards there was a warm glow between us and she gently smiled, her intelligent, sensitive, sensual eyes peering into mine. She held my hand.
After choir practice we were on our way to the bus -- each of us was going home, but we lived on opposite sides of the city. Weirdly there was no talk about what had just happened, but she seemed to have a warmth and happiness about her. She was a very empathic person and she knew how deeply impactful and special that moment had been for me.
I worked up the courage to ask her, "so Melanie, would you like to go out?"
Immediately she responsed, "I really like you -- but I'm in love with my friend."
My heart sank. Another eternally imprinted feeling. She was perfect for me, or so I thought. So much in common in terms of personality and intellect, and I found her sublimely beautiful in a way that I don't think others would. And her kiss was like imprinting, like a switch inside of me had been flipped, so that she would own my heart forever.
I often thought that if I ever had the chance back then to have sex with her, I think she would have insisted that we do it without a condom. She was a purist, a mystic, oddly religious. She would have thought that true sex would have no barriers. She would have required this of me as a sign of commitment, a sign that I was willing to get her pregnant, an homage to her Catholic roots. Even though I was only 20 at the time, immature, with my career beginning only 10 years later, I know in my heart that I would have agreed passionately. Sex with her would have been the most ecstatic experience of my life, the possibility of pregnancy would have made it even more perfectly, sublimely erotic, and if she got pregnant it would have been magical, even if I was unprepared for fatherhood back then.
But apparently she was unavailable. She told me that she was in love with one of her professors. This person was of course unavailable and not interested in her. She never did tell me why she kissed me that day. She might simply say that she felt like it. I think she really did like me and even find me attractive. And she may have thought it would be a nice moment for both of us. Maybe she didn't realize that I would be so affected afterwards. Or maybe she did, who knows.
