Recently, I have been watching Family Guy a lot more than I ever had before. Not necessarily because I find it amusing (though SOME of the jokes are funny) but because it’s oftentimes the only thing on that looks appealing. Also, I laugh whenever I hear the opening chords of its theme.

“Why?” you ask.

Well, a while back, I alluded to the fact that I did not have my first kiss until the age of 19.

My first kiss may or may not have had something to do with watching this show.

OK, it DID have something to do with it. I’m not necessarily proud of this fact, but at least it makes a good story. Right?

I was a naive freshman in college, and I had asked a friend of a friend to be my date for the sorority’s annual Crush party around Valentine’s Day. I was convinced we were going to have a great time — I knew he was a good guy — and sorority functions were ALWAYS fun. And afterward, we were planning to watch Texas Chainsaw Massacre because it was Friday the 13th.

He called me a few days before the party and asked if I wanted to hang out that evening.

Being completely oblivious, I figured it would be a great time for us to get to know each other.

It was raining outside, and the streets were flooding. He told me we were going to go over to his friend’s apartment (because he lived at home), watch a movie and hang out for a bit. It sounded like a plan to me, and I totally fell for the bait.

When we got to his friend’s apartment, we came to the realization that his friend wasn’t there. (Hmm. I wonder why.) Shrugging it off and saying his friend must have run out for something, he decided to put on Family Guy because I had never seen it.

The first episode was uneventful. We both sat awkwardly on the leather sofa, our postures nearly perfect. It happened as the credits were rolling for that episode.

As the selection screen and its music (the opening credits for the show) came on, he turned awkwardly to me and went in for the kill. The younger version of myself, realizing what was about to happen, closed my eyes.

It’s important to know that since I had never been kissed, I had big expectations for this. It was supposed to be foot-popping good. (Thank you, Princess Mia.) It was supposed to be toe-curling good. It was supposed to be magical.

But it was slobbery.

I was thoroughly disappointed but decided that maybe if I kissed him once or twice more, it would get better.

It didn’t.

We kissed for a bit, and it still wasn’t better. I pretended I was enjoying myself but I totally wasn’t impressed.

At one point, my friend Emily called me, and he turned off my phone. She left a message saying something along the lines of, “I bet you’re making out right now.”

She was right. (This could have something to do with the fact that she knew I was going to hang out with him, that she knew I had never been kissed and that she and I joked about this quite a bit.)

We kissed again.

Keep in mind that the Family Guy theme song was playing in the background of our smooching the ENTIRE time. And I was completely disappointed in my first kiss. It definitely was not what I had expected.

He eventually took me home, and I couldn’t admit to anyone (except maybe my BFF Eli and Em) that the kiss was a HUGE letdown.

Was it me? Was I doing something wrong? Had I just built it up in my mind to where it could only let me down? Did I just not like it?

I opted for the last option.

And while he and I went to the party and kissed a little bit more, my mind was made up — I wasn’t a kissing kind of girl. (Not that I was an anything else kind of girl, mind you.) That was it. That HAD to be it.

I ended up confronting him about a week after the party because he hadn’t called. I told him I didn’t want to make out and not be dating or starting a relationship. He recited the whole ‘I’m not looking for a girlfriend’ speech, and that was it. We were done as fast as we began.

I wasn’t kissed for another two years, making my second kiss come at age 21.5. The entire time between the two, I truly believed that I just didn’t like it.

Needless to say, two years later, I realized that it wasn’t me. It was him/his style. And that I did indeed enjoy being kissed. In fact, I loved it.

And, to this day, it has only gotten better.

I don’t think about that first kiss often, but whenever I hear the opening to that theme song, I’m taken back to that rainy night at a sketchy apartment with a guy I hardly know, and I giggle about it to myself. Wouldn’t you?