Another First Kiss
A song by They Might Be Giants that is about the quiet, ordinary version of love that is seldom written about.
Another First Kiss is a snapshot into a life I’ve stolen many glimpses of.
Unlike previous They Might Be Giants songs, the fifth track on Mink Car is a love song that does not collapse into a terrible end. No sad sack. No unrequited love. Just two people, living together, being comfortable with themselves in the ordinary moments of a shared life.
I miss that.
Love songs tend to orbit beginnings. The spark. The realization. The “wait a minute, is this person my SOUL MATE?” moment. That’s the cliché.
This song lives in the middle.
There’s a lyric that expresses this succinctly:
We’ve run out of things to say
And we’ll be happy anyway
That’s not the beginning of love. That’s what happens after you’ve said everything and have eased into your life enjoying couch time with 90 Day Fiancé on.
It’s about that quiet, settled space. The routines. The shorthand. Two people so fully inside a cozy life together that they want to rewind just enough to feel that first kiss again.
Have you ever had that?
In the months after a relationship ends, it’s hard to see the good moments as real on their own. Everything is filtered through the ending. Memories feel tethered to the hurt. The loss. The sings said, or not said.
But healing does this weird, necessary thing. It lets you hold multiple truths at once. That something can have been good and still be over. That you can remember it without dragging the ending into every memory.
I’ve experienced that comfortable pocket before. The feeling where you’re not just co-existing but interacting with one another in a way that becomes less like two people and more like a neutron and proton orbiting each other as a single atom. Each with their own distinct characteristics but combined as singular force of nature.
Sure, I’ll admit I don’t completely understand how atoms work.
Hearing this song now doesn’t make me want to relive a first kiss from the past.
It makes me want the next one.
The electricity of looking into their eyes as you both glance down at each others lips, hoping to God that you don’t do something awkward. .
And then the shift.
The moment your nervous system realizes; it happened.
And whether it lasts forever or barely survives the week, that moment gets carved into you anyway.
You’re reading one of my Mink Car essays. An album full of pop, depression, car accidents, and high fidelity.
See all Mink Car posts - Start Here
Dive deeper into TMBG lore at TMBW.net (fan-run and fantastic)