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When he was nine... Evelyn Summers kissed him under the mistletoe at a Christmas party. He had seen her hovering around all night trying to catch one of the boys in the doorway, but he was on a mission and felt it was worth the risk. He was skulking about the doorway trying to sneak past his father to be the first to get to the fresh tray of cookies that the caterer had just put out. His reaction to Evelyn's sloppy kiss was to make a face and quickly wipe his mouth with the back of his hand. In the end, Evelyn ran off crying leaving John not really understanding why she was crying. But he didn't care, kissing girls was gross anyway.
When he was fifteen... As John and his group of friends were sitting in the warm sand, taking a breather from surfing, Anne Desmonde had plunked down next to him, scooting in close to him. Her brother Paul, a senior in their high school and an Olympic hopeful swimmer, had just arrived and had dropped his towel a ways down from where they sat. John's attention was drawn as Paul proceeded to strip off his t-shirt and do some stretching before heading into the water. Anne took the little sideways glances John kept stealing as being for her and finally just leaned in and took the initiative to kiss him the next time he turned his head. John's pulling away and expression of horror didn't go over well with Anne and she stormed off with the rest of the girls quickly following. John really didn't care, well, that's not entirely true, one particular Desmonde's thoughts about it mattered to him. But it just wasn't Anne, because as he had decided at nine, kissing girls was gross.
When he was nineteen... Linda Reilly made her move during a drunken soiree at his fraternity house his sophomore year of college. She was a freshman and a new member of their sister sorority. Blonde, gorgeous, and most definitely looking for a rich husband, she had been winnowing her way through the fraternity looking for the perfect mate and had decided it was John. John didn't quite know what to make of it when she had cornered him at the party and taken his drunk self by the hand to lead him upstairs to his room. Had his head been clearer, he would have gently extricated himself from her octopus-like embrace and the greasy lipstick she was getting all over him as she tried to arouse him. But he wasn't clear-headed, he was drunk, and had been about one step away from being a passed-out-drunk downstairs. Now, lying horizontal on his soft bed he didn't see any reason to not to take that last step, and so he did. The next day his fraternity brothers had ribbed him unmercifully about blowing his big chance, but as he was in the shower and had to keep scrubbing random intimate places to get the lipstick off, he really didn't care. Nine or nineteen- kissing girls was still gross.
When he was twenty-nine... Nancy Adkins sort of snuck in under his radar when he was stationed in California. She was fun and a little crazy and she fit right in with him and Holland and the rest of his Air Force buddies. Their friendship was strong and it seemed like the logical thing to do when she asked him to marry her, even if he hadn't ever really thought about her that way. She was understanding when things didn't always work so well between them physically, and was, at least outwardly, content when on rare occasion things did. But that could only last so long, and though he hadn't expected her proposal, he more than expected the divorce papers. Holland had taken John out and gotten him ridiculously drunk that night, and had just nodded knowingly when John had slurred out that kissing girls was always gross.
When he was thirty-nine... After finally getting the replicator situation under control after his father's funeral and reconnecting with his brother Dave, John had surprised Ronon with a day of horseback riding out on some favorite mountain trails. The two men spent a relaxing morning riding, their bantering bordering on the flirtatious the whole time. They took a break by a stream to eat the picnic lunch John had brought, settling themselves down on a red plaid picnic blanket. After they ate, John had an odd feeling of expectation as he stretched out his legs and leaned back on his elbows to watch the horses near the stream. Ronon didn't watch the horses, he watched John instead, and with a quick glance around to be sure they were truly alone, he shifted and in one smooth, graceful motion, rolled over on top of John with a grin. Their eyes were locked onto each other's and there was no way for John to miss it when Ronon leaned down closer to claim John's mouth with his own. John didn't pull away, nor did he make a face in disgust, instead he fisted his hands tightly in Ronon's shirt to keep Ronon right where he was and poured everything he had into kissing Ronon back. Much later on, as they rode back to the stable with their clothes sticking to their damp skin where they had hurriedly washed in the cold stream, John had a mental conversation with his nine-year old self. The two of them agreed- kissing girls was gross, but kissing boys was going to be a lot of fun.
the end.