Embarrassing moments...Part III

On the topic of first kisses, there are a couple of firsts I would like to share with you.
My first-first kiss was in 1983, my second year in the United States. My parents became friends with a bunch of farmers around Deming, one of them being the family of my secret crush, Jed Paulk (does that sound like a hillbilly name or what?). In the spirit of friendship, his parents forced him to take my brother, my cousins Andy and Sandy and of course, me, to the movies. It was either E.T. or The Last Starfighter, I can't remember. It was at the drive-in, since Deming did not have a movie theatre yet. I was prepared, I was going to be charming, flirty, funny, etc... even though I still spoke English like a French cow (for those of you that are not European, this is a very popular saying).
I sat next to him in the front seat for two hours... and did not say one word to him. Everytime I looked over at him, I thought I was going to vomit from nervousness. My brother and my cousins were in the back seat, laughing their asses off, making vile comments in Italian. At the end of the movie, he drove us home. I still had not said one word to him.
We got out of the car, he came around to open my door, let me out, shook my hand and planted a kiss on my left cheek.
I promptly fainted. Full-on falling straight backwards, hitting my head on the gravel road.
The next thing I remember is my cousin Sandy shaking me awake, asking me if I was alright. Jed and I didn't speak again until my senior year. He must have kept this date to himself, 'cause thankfully no one at school ever made fun of me.
Except my brother and my cousins.
My second-first kiss was in 1986, my senior year in high school, when it finally became necessary for me to have some kind of boyfriend. His name was Bill Beck (what the heck is it with these hick names?), he was about a foot taller than me and probably weighed 120 lbs. He was the star trumpet player in the band (didn't I tell you, I was a band fag!) and all the girls wanted him... but the Italian stallion had her eyes on him, and he just couldn't get away.
After months of flirting and smiling, he finally asked me on a date. He would come pick me up at 6 pm and we would go fishing. At a pond. On a double date with his brother and his girlfriend.
The fishing was actually kinda fun, we caught 5 or 6 catfish, which my dad promptly battered and fried when I got home.
The date is another matter entirely...
We stopped fishing and sat in his brother's car, his brother and chick up front, Bill and I in the back. Music was on, the vibe was right, his brother was making out with his broad like mad and I could feel the tension growing...
Bill finally leaned over and literally shoved his tongue in my mouth. He didn't even have time to pull away before I projectile-vomited all over him. No joke. In those days, I use to eat at school and lunch included a pizza burrito, some Cheetos and probably two or four Reeses Peanut Butter Cups. Use your imagination.
What cracks me up is that even puking on him didn't deter him from dating me. It was a long time before he tried to kiss me again, though. The poor kid should've given up.
The next time he tried to kiss me was on a church trip to El Paso... We were sitting next to each other on the school bus, it was dark... I thought I was prepared this time, but when he stuck his tongue in my mouth, he also tried to cop a feel ( mom, that means he tried to touch my boobs), so I punched him square in the face and made his nose bleed.
We broke up that night.
That's me and Bill in the picture, the night I graduated from high school (he was a junior...)