Seventeen kisses

Our first kiss? Yes, our first kiss was in the rehearsal room. It was a beautiful, magical moment. Never to be forgotten. What a kiss! She had wonderful red hair. Her skin was perfect. She was an angel. Every time I was close to her there was electricity between us. We kissed exactly 17 times.

It must be almost 50 years ago but I can remember that first kiss so clearly. My first term at university. My second play after a brief cameo in a brilliant production of Twelfth Night. The director had set the play in 1930s Chicago. It was sold out every night. That gave me the confidence to audition for this new play.

That first kiss. You may say it doesn’t count as a real kiss because we were just acting. I don’t think I was acting.

The play was called “Moonlight in Milton Keynes”. It was a new play by a third-year student called Michael Kenyon. It had never been performed before. I don’t think it was ever performed again. I think it was probably terrible. Michael also directed it. And designed the set. The play was a three-hander. The other character was a drunken homeless man who appeared in a 20-minute mime sequence that formed the middle section of the play. I didn’t enjoy rehearsing the mime sequence. We spent more time rehearsing that mime sequence than we did rehearsing the kiss.

She was a much better actress than me. When I think about it now all these years later I reckon she could have been a professional actress. Whereas I never acted again. That was my farewell to the world of acting. I decided to focus on my studies. I could remember facts for exams but I always struggled to remember lines for that play.

I just found it so hard to learn them. And I was hoping that she might want to meet up outside rehearsals just to run through the lines once or twice but I got the feeling that she didn’t want to. So I suppose that I had the feeling that she had more important things to do than spend time hanging around with somebody like me.

But I remember there was a scene in the play where our characters were arguing. Her character was angry with my character because I didn’t want to help the homeless man. And then it turned out that the homeless man was actually my half-brother and that the reason that I didn’t want to help him was that I didn’t want her to know that he was actually my half-brother. She was so convincing when she was angry. She shouted at me. She raged at me. She wept. I didn’t need to act. I genuinely felt emotional. My emotion was real. It was like being in a real argument. Every time we rehearsed that scene it was exhausting. There was so much emotion between us. So much chemistry!

My favourite scene came towards the end of the play. We were out on a date. Our characters were out on a date. My character was saying some very witty things and making her laugh. I enjoyed rehearsing that scene more than I enjoyed rehearsing the argument scene. I wish I could remember some of the lines. I can remember getting worried in rehearsal and thinking that the audience wouldn’t laugh. Then at the first performance the audience did laugh.

The kiss came right at the end of the play in the very final scene. We were standing on a motorway bridge near Milton Keynes. In the play that is. You see, until the last minute of the play you weren’t sure whether the characters were going to end up together. The kiss – our first kiss – was the climax of the play.

So we kissed exactly 17 times. 11 times in rehearsal. 6 times in the performances. The first kiss was the best. But the other 16 were pretty good. Actually kiss number 17 was probably the best. Maybe even better than the first.

Oh, I remember going to see her in a production of a Harold Pinter play. Can’t remember the name now. One of those plays which are full of dramatic pauses and hidden menace. She was playing a prostitute but I couldn’t believe her as a prostitute. She was too pure to be a common prostitute. I don’t know why they made her into a prostitute. She was much too pure. Though I heard rumours that she was having an affair with her leading man.

You see, I have often wondered what would have happened if I had summoned up the confidence to ask her out on a date. Would she have said yes? Would there have been more kisses? Would there have been meals in restaurants where I made her laugh with my witty comments? Would there have been arguments full of passion and anger? Would there have been romantic afternoons lying in bed making love? Would we have got married? Had children? Would my life have been totally different? Now, as my memory starts to fade, I can’t even remember her name.

What time is it now? Oh, I’ve spent the whole afternoon sitting in the garden. It is starting to get a bit colder now. I think it must be almost Spring as those pretty, yellow flowers are starting to appear.

Watch out! That nice carer with the red hair is coming to wheel me back to my room. Must be time for tea. I’ve enjoyed this afternoon. I’ve enjoyed spending time with my memories. As Tennison said, “Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.”

“Come on, Colin,” says the carer, “let’s get you back inside or you’ll miss your tea.”

She starts to wheel me back into the building even though my name isn’t Colin. At least I don’t think it is.

What a lovely afternoon. Delightful! I must do this again tomorrow!