The beginning

I suppose it was in Primary School. But it must have been, of course. There was a lot of "girls chasing boys" back then, I definitely recall wanting to be caught, but not wishing to appear that way to the others. Of course, who wouldn't have wanted to be caught and kissed by the soft-skinned, sweet-smelling girls. I guess I was never much of a sportsman, even then, and it was easy enough to make a good effort of avoiding capture, yet still manage to stumble at just the right point they could catch and hold me down and kiss me, and claim their victory, while I had to feign defeat and endure the jeers of the other boys. Then I suppose they might have done the same, and kept it secret as I did. Hard to know, when all they ever talked about was cricket, football, and whatever new toy, or fad was winning favour in the schoolyard of the day.

I wasn't quiet, but I would have rather spent my time in the library than chasing a ball around a paddock with the purpose of removing it from the grip of someone twice my size, then running away from them. Why bother, when I could save a lot of time and injury by simply staying from them in the first place? They could have the ball. This activity was favoured amongst the boys for half the year, until the days grew longer, and then it was time for standing around in whites in an open field in the remote possibility someone would hit something round and hard in my direction at flesh-bruising speed. Not my idea of a good time, but I never begrudged anyone for it. Some of my best friends were sport obsessed, just like their dads, I suppose. And maybe as their own sons are now. But making up games was a more likely way for me to be spending my time, along with the rest of the misfits I managed to find, no matter what school I found myself in.

But there were other times. I remember on particular school camp, on which the main attraction was trail riding through the surrounds of the camp, up around the goldfields not too far from Ballarat. That was where I learned that not only is it not a natural talent to be able to ride a horse, but that not picking up the trick by the end of a single day gave one the gait of a slow moving duck. I found, to my surprise, that the hip movements required to keep one's arse clear of the saddle came quite instinctively to me, and was spared the giggles of the girls, when the rest of the boys showed up for our "barn dance" in the evening. I also discovered two important pieces of information.

1. Girls like boys who dance (even if they aren't very good at it)
2. Most boys don't like to dance (especially when they can hardly walk)

I had my first real kiss that night. A proper open mouthed kiss. Maybe because I could actually sit down on a hay bale and talk face to face, or maybe as a result of watching Countdown every Sunday night with my older sister since she was old enough to babysit. Thankyou, Village People, and your YMCA. Whatever the reason this girl, with frizzy, tightly curled hair and translucent skin, decided to kiss me. Of course, I wasn't in love with her, that's just crazy talk. But I was on the road.