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It was Mr. Mustard in the library with the overactive first-grader's imagination -- my first firstkiss, a very chaste peck, happened during a game of Clue. My five-year-old (I was five, too) boyfriend's older brother left the room and JD leaned toward me and asked, "Would it be okay with your mom if I kissed you?" With my devil-may-care attitude asserting itself early, I responded, "Of course!" knowing full well that it would certainly not be okay with mother, not at all.

And that was likely still true six years later when I had my second firstkiss. This one was preceded by my saying, in my trademark romantic style, "Wait a minute...just let me spit out my gum." And with that, grape bubblegum hit the pavement and BC's tongue was halfway down my throat. It was kind of icky and boring, but I felt like I was part of the club.

Those are the actual firstkisses, but I have to say that every firstkiss with someone new tends to be memorable and story-worthy. I think they've gotten sweeter as I've gotten older.

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