My first kiss wasn't special, at least that was what I thought at that time. I was very small. I was 13 years old and had a barrage of hormone. He also had a tremendous innocence and very little desire to leave childhood. They told me I didn't have to play with dolls anymore, and I didn't understand. With a little modesty, I admit it. I was one of those kind of big-ass assholes with his toys but why did I have to give up my games?
On the other hand, I had dreamed that my first kiss was going to be like a dream, with a boy I was in love with, and that, besides, everything was going to go around.
My Pequitas was a doll with fuchsia wool hair. It was named after the little ones on his right cheek. The ones on the left, I erased them with alcohol once I was a doctor.
The Colorado matched Pequitas because it also had woollen hair, but the color was orange. It was a gift from my godfather. It looks like I'm watching my godfather take that doll off the shelf, which I'm already discovering in my arms.
I also had my baby Rebecca Elizabeth, a name influenced by Mexican soap operas and Yankee movies. And to my Barbies, I'm always wishing for a Ken who didn't arrive at any Christmas or any kings. A unicorn and a black doll that my dad gave me at three because I fell in love with her and threw myself on the floor to be bought. I had a lot more toys. These were the ones I remember most. And it turns out that, because I turned 13, I had to leave them.
Meanwhile, I was leading a double life. When I met up with my friends, we talked about the first parties, we talked about bands and kids, guys that I wasn't really interested in yet. But when I came home, I'd sneak my toys out. And among them all, the Barbies were at their most popular moment. At last they had taken centre stage because of their womanly appearance. And with them I imagined my adolescence, the festivities of the future and I imagined what it would be like to live alone, without annoying parents or puffy little brothers and sisters.
One night, my friend Loli's family invited me to a carnival. Since it was a well-known family, my mother left me. When we got there, I saw a nice, tall, dark boy. It's Rodrigo. I've known him since I was 11 because he was a partner's ex-boyfriend, much earlier than I was. He was approaching me. We chatted. Someone was passing by but I don't know who frothed me in the eyes. For a few seconds I can't see anything. I'm in that nebula and Rodrigo helped me. I got a handkerchief over my face, it foams and just kisses me. I didn't expect it, but I respond to the kiss by inertia. And that's it. They say the first kiss can only be given once. And it's true. There was nothing to go around. I see myself in that corner with a sense of curiosity and attraction mixed with anger.
He asks me if I want to be his girlfriend and I say yes, but the next day, when I see him in the corner of my house, I repent and ignore him. But that week, without realizing it, I put my dolls in a bag and gave them to my little sister. I touched Pequitas' cheek without freckles and combed the Barbies for the last time.
