Laughing with white people.
<p>When most people recall the story of their first kiss, laughter is probably not the first thing that comes to mind. That’s not to say that many of us don’t share the awkward discomfort of it all, but in my limited research of asking friends to tell their tale, I can see their faces scrunch into a similar smile as they paint a picturesque scene from our collective rom-com dreams. At best, the stories tell a tale of a sudden peck on the playground with a middle school crush or sneaking a sweet smooch with their brother’s best friend in the hallway. At worst — they recall a full blown make-out session where the most painful detail was the bumpiness of their mouth-mate’s tongue (yikes). Many of these stories evoke laughter from the adults recalling them — “Oh, I was so awkward back then!” as they pause to make fun of their angsty-er teenage selves. Their laughter is usually wholesome and exists solely in reflection. With my story, laughter holds a more pivotal role — played by my classmates, my entire graduating class and at the very end— myself.</p>
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