The Teenage Woe Files- First Kiss

She runs through the rain, searching for him.
He runs too- searching for her.
They unite and kiss.
They live happily ever after.

If I ever thought that would happen to me and him, I'd be damned. 
Archie was completely clueless.
Okay, forget the running. Expecting him to go along with that would be being optimistic to the point of foolishness. But even solid flirting, my best flirting (which, admittedly, wasn't very good) could not get him to kiss me.  

Isn't this every sixteen year old girl's problem? The woes, the throws, the sleepless nights over it all- and believe me, I'd had them all, and more. All I wanted was one small kiss. Or a slightly large one.

It wasn't that he ignored me; he didn't. He just never came remotely close enough for anything to happen. Some of the sleepless nights were lost to my worrying if I smelled, others contemplating our relative heights, and some more causing myself trepidation over the fact that I was having an acne breakthrough.

Was there something wrong with me? The question was like a hornet, stinging me over and over again.  I had gone past the hopeful stage of looking forward to a passionate kiss under the mistletoe, or a hearty hurl behind the school orchard; now I would be really very glad with a peck on the cheek.

I suppose it wasn't so much the kiss itself, as such, but more of the things it symbolized. Intimacy, proximity, and commitment. 

But with Archie the Great and Sensitive, it seemed that the day we would kiss, pigs would fly and cushions would talk.