My very first kiss was from a boy named Peter Hantman, when we were in the second grade. He had started sending me notes in class, all written up with mulitple choice answers with check boxes next to them (God - I wish I still had them - they'd be hilarious to look at now). Anyway - the questions were like this -  "Do you like me?" Check YES or NO. "Do you want to get married?" Check YES or NO.

So, one day, I'm walking from the classroom to the playground for recess, when Peter come flying out from behind a brick wall, tackles me to the ground and plants a big old kiss on my cheek. I was totally baffled, but oddly proud that I had been so enthusiastically assaulted in the name of puppy love. I remember I ran out to the playground, pretending to be shocked and upset, just so I could tell everyone I knew that I had been kissed by Peter Hantman. My future husband. (His family moved away that year - to the other side of town - so he was in another school district and, as you might imagine, our romance wilted.)

My first REAL, sloppy, gropey, hormone induced smooch was in the 7th grade with a boy named Scott Jackson. He had a party in his basement and I went because some friends of mine knew him and invited me to come along. It was a very innocent group of kids - they all knew each other from their church youth group and did a lot of social activities together. We were all at that stage where we'd sit in a row, giving each other back and neck massages, and lie in a dark basement, listening to the Beatles, surrounded by posters that glowed under a black light, thinking we were so cool ... but we weren't. We were total dorks.

Anyway, I don't even really remember how it happened, except we were listening to music and eating chips and playing ping-pong and someone asked me what I thought of Scott. I really didn't have an opinion of him, since I didn't really know him, but then I was told that he liked me and what did I think of that? Well, I had never really had a boyfriend and I thought it would be cool to have one, and he wasn't bad looking (although he was blond and, even though I didn't know it then, that's not my type). So I said, yeah - I like him too.

Next thing I knew, he was sitting next to me and the lights were low (it was that stage in the party where those who were going to pair up and make out were doing so) and he kind of lunged at me and stuck his tongue in my mouth and started swirling it around much too much (but I didn't know any better) and there was a lot of spit and we kind of had our arms around each other in a weird, awkward way ... but I really liked it and I though, "Damn! I need to get good at this." So, we slobbered on each other for a good while and then I went home and thought, "Scott Jackson is my boyfriend now!"

The next day I tried to call him and he wasn't home, so I left a message. He never called back. I called a few more times and he never got back to me and I was kind of disappointed, but I got over it. I have no recollection if I ever saw him at school, or if we ever spoke again ... but I will always remember him as my first big fat drooly kiss.

Kissing is fun!

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