I had always been a vegetarian. My family was very strict on that issue, so I had never eaten meat. 20 years in a row, since I was born. I was cool with that until a couple of months, when the weirdest thing happened to me.
I was on my summer break, trying to make the best out of it. You know, the pool-parties-every-day kind of attitude. I think it was the bronze tone on my tanned skin that got me a date with my lovely crush. Well, he invited me to a barbecue at a cousin's. That has to count, right? So, vegetarian and all, I said yes and went to the family event with him.
That afternoon, while getting dressed, I was feeling a bit worried. All that meat around and I wasn't going to be able to take a bite, not even a tiny one. What was I going to eat? Anyway, I dismissed my concerns and put on my prettiest summer dress, the blue one with the little white flowers.
It was a chilly day, and sunlight was starting to scarce. The food smelled amazing. My handsome crush did a pretty good job at keeping me warm, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. For a couple of hours, everything was laughter and drinks back and forth, but everyone eventually minded their own business. We went to the backyard and sat on a beautiful wooden bench. For a few minutes, we watched silently as the first fireflies performed their dance.
That day is special to me for many reasons. I received my first kiss, and I also ate meat for the first time in my life. I still remember the opening bite. My mouth waters at the mere thought of it. Between my teeth, the chunk of meat felt just right. Using my incisors and canines, I ripped and tore it apart in pieces, the right size to get the better taste out of it. I savored with my eyes closed, following a primary instinct.
I can't say I'm sorry for what I did to the poor guy. I have to admit that I sometimes run my tongue over these cold, metal bars, hoping to catch a glimpse of his relish.
Thank you, 