First Kisses

First Kisses are almost always fun, or at least in my life they are fun. Mostly because they involve brown men. My very first First Kiss involved an African boy (and by boy I mean man) that I met on the island of Zanzibar. Doesn’t that sound romantic? It gets better. He took me to the other side of the island on the back of his motorcycle to a lovely white sand beach and taught me all about spices and where they came from. As it turned out, he was a bit spicy himself. We ended up making out in the back seat of a pastor’s car in Singita, Tanzania while Pastor Mafwimbo unloaded my backpack from the trunk. Sadly, I had to end the kiss pretty quickly when I realized around fifty Tanzanians gathered at the train station were curiously starring at us, my friend (standing next to the pastor) and I being the only wzungu (white people) to visit the city in months. I’m sure the pastor figured it out later.

Another fun First Kiss for me involved my cute translator Abdul (name has been changed) in the desert dunes of Southern Algeria where I was conducting research for my masters program. (Don’t judge me, I’m pretty sure it didn’t affect the outcomes of my study.) It was also memorable because that night after seeing the most beautiful stars ever, it started raining. Did you know it rains in the Sahara?

The 2nd best kisser (my current boyfriend is #1) I ever kissed was Moroccan. Let me tell you, those Moroccans have SKILLS. Our First Kiss was on the banks of the Potomac in Georgetown after a delicious meal at a riverfront restaurant.

And finally, my most recent and (cross your fingers) FINAL First Kiss was with a Samoan boy here in DC, in a haunted bus. Yes, a haunted bus. After walking me through a scary haunted forest last Halloween and me clinging to his arm all night for protection from the crazy monsters, this Samoan got brave and gave me a good smooch. As with my first First Kiss I had to end this one after less than a minute upon remembering the bus was stocked with teenagers ready to reach out and grab us as we walked through the rest of the haunted bus pathways.

Bonuses of brown boyz: brown boyz let you know they’re interested so there’s less guesswork. Some of you girls may protest that that takes away from the mystery and fun of hooking up, but I disagree. Wouldn’t you rather just know they’re interested and let them kiss you? Which brings me to my second bonus—brown boyz put out. Third, as in my case, marrying a brown boy (which I will be doing this fall) can give your children the everlasting gift of guilt-free brown skin. My children will always be tan! I am going to always remind them to be grateful to me.

The benefits to white boys? Sadly, I cannot think of any. I’ve only kissed two ever and they were very, very wussy. I have dated a number of white boyz and many of them were super nice, but they just didn’t turn me on really. I apologize if you are a white boy reading this. I’m pretty sure none of the white boyz I have dated actually know about this blog.