Thursday, 18 September 2014

...and I liked it

I've never kissed a Scot.

My second ever kiss happened in Scotland - immediately following my first ever sexual experience, both with Esque. But she's a girl from Durham; we were holidaying along with 47 for the Edinburgh Fringe. On my frequent sojourns to Scotland, for bizarre holidays in the rain and family visiting purposes, I don't have any memories of kissing anyone even remotely Scottish.

But then again, I haven't kissed many people. Unlike my Scottish cousin, who is a footballer and spent his year in London snogging the hottest girls in bars and then showing me pictures of them on his phone.


My memories of Scotland are scattered and mixed. For those of you who don't know, I'm part Scottish myself - my Dad is from Edinburgh and I was partially brought up by my Gran, who had her Borders accent until she died last year. I've been taken north of the Border to visit my ever-diminishing family on a few occasions, the types to say things like "the last time I saw you, you were a little short-arse".

Very Scottish.

With the exception of the Edinburgh debacle above, my mind highlights visiting my Great-Gran in a Home and shouting at her (because my dad had told me to speak "loudly and slowly"), listening to James in the car and recognising the band name and the song but not really clocking it for a while, a holiday near a beach where I got a crush on a girl my age and asked her to be my pen-pal (I was 9), and - most recently - a journey to and from Glasgow in 2007 to see James (again!) with 47 (again!), with ten-hour coach trips spent mainly discussing 4chan and reading Moby-Dick. For whatever reason, my memory doesn't work too well when it comes to the country my family's from, and that's weird. I can pick out bits, but only bits.

But I can't remember kissing any Scots. My memory being intact, I can pick out twelve people I've kissed - that's more than I thought! - and not one of them claimed to have any Scottish blood whatsoever. Certainly none of them actually lived in Scotland. I even once had a conversation with a friend who was slightly put out that she'd never slept with a Scot - the closest being her St. Andrew's-attending boyfriend, who was actually a Mackem.

So maybe I can't contribute to the #ikissedascot hashtag. But, considering the fact that I've masturbated a few times, I've most certainly had sex with one.

No comments: