firstkissproject

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2009-11-07T03:52:00.002-05:00

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Blast from The Past

2009-11-06T21:16:00.002-05:00

This kiss was originally posted in October of 2006. -ed

The new guy at our school that year was named Abel. He was really into sports and cussed a lot and I didn't think he was very cute but all the other girls liked him. During the intermission of our "Gotta Dance" talent show a bunch of us were hanging out on the back cement steps. He said something to the effect of not liking my lipstick color and I busted out with a line that I felt could have been in a movie,

"Then take it off." He proceeded to kiss me. It was pinched and dry and imperceptibly violent, as if he knew I was using him to shock our classmates. As if he knew he was not the kind of boy I was supposed to
find attractive.

Thanks to Jacque Lynn Schiller, for sharing her story all over again.
Send your First Kiss Stories to firstkissproject@gmail.com.

Anon

2009-08-31T18:57:00.000-04:00

We’d talked online for about three months before we first met. I thought I’d known her, I thought we’d be comfortable with each other, I was on the plane I sent her a text message “I’m nervous about meeting you”, she replied back “don’t be, I’m feeling calm actually”

When we met, I felt... surreal, like it was a fantastic dream, she on the other hand looked nervous as anything which made me even more confident.

The next day we went to a cafe at a shopping center, we went around the corner of the cafe so we'd be more alone, though we weren't really - it was a open at both ends to more shops, we sat without saying anything. I was just looking at her face, 24 hours later I still felt like none of this was real, like it was too good to be real.

By then, we still had not held hands, or touched at all, not even bumped into each other by mistake!

I thought, I really want to hold her hand.

I felt a funny taste in my mouth and my legs get very weak -good thing we were sitting-. I didn’t know if what I was going to do was gonna work or not.

I held our my hand to her.

at this stage we weren't married so we COULDN’T touch each other. This might be difficult to understand, but for Muslims, if you're not married, you can't be together.

I don't know why I did that, I did not want her to take my hand because it was wrong, but I SO wanted to feel her hand. It was a second, but a very long second, it felt like a minute.

During that one second, her hand was holding mine; it was the most amazing feeling, so soft, so small in my own hand, so warm, and holding on to my hand, the next moment however was the one I’ll never forget.

Holding her hand I look into her eyes, I have a hunger to taste those lips, and I see that same hunger in her eyes, I’m scared of going for the next move, but what the #@$% I think, I pull her hand towards me and lean in slowly.

She leans at the same time towards me and our lips meet. Our hands tighten, and we kiss.

That was my first kiss, I don’t remember if her lips were soft, or if it was a wet kiss, or if we did it right. I do remember that my heart beat so fast I was afraid it would leave my chest, I remember holding her elbow as we kissed, I remember that I kissed not because I wanted to kiss, but because I wanted to kiss HER ! It was the most special moment in my life.

Second Chance at a First Kiss

2009-04-22T16:15:00.001-04:00

I am 35 yrs young. Have had plenty of first kisses. But recently I actually experienced "it". It was St. Patricks Day. So maybe a little "luck-of-the irish" thing was going on. I was newly separated from my husband of 10 years and out on the town to celebrate. I was doing alot of flirting with everyone. Just having a good time. I happen to be a smoker and use the tactic of borrowing cigarettes to meet people. Well, that night I did the same. I approached a guy I thought was pretty cute. It was a nice meeting, but there was "something" that made it different from the rest. First, he only just moved here to the US from a foreign country about 6 months ago, so the language barrier was huge. Talking was at a minimum. We let our eyes do the communicating. Second, only after about 10 minutes a strange connection developed. And that's when the First Kiss happened. Some say "don't expect fireworks". But the second our lips touched, that's exactly what happened. A very dizzying experience. A "take your breath away" kind-of thing. Now you have to understand that we were in the middle of a huge bar party. People everywhere, cameras flashing, band playing, etc... I also am NOT the kind of person that is into Public Displays of Affection. But when that kiss happened, it was like I was in this bubble of bright light. Nothing else mattered, as if everyone else had disappeared. Like we were alone in our own world. With just a dull roar of the surroundings around us. This kiss lasted for over 1 hour. No lie. My lips were so swollen and numb afterwards, till morning. There was so much passion there, like we had known each other forever and just reunited after a long absence. It was just like those scenes in movies or stories in romance novels that are just too unrealistic to be believable. The ones you fantasize over. There was so much confusion over the feelings (for the both of us) that it seemed we just had to keep kissing until we figured out why we needed to. We could not get enough of each other. And not just that, the kiss was absolutely Perfect. P-E-R-F-E-C-T !! Not one fault could be found. It was if our kissing techniques were identicle. There was no clumsiness or hesitation. None. And the best part of it all, is that we have seen each other a few times since then and it is the same every time. It is like a first kiss all over again. Needless to say I am absolutely smitten. If for some reason I would never see him again, every kiss from then on would be compared to his, and probably come up sorely lacking. I am so greatful that I have been able to experience this. It is one of those moments that will forever be burned into my memory. My whole outlook on life has changed. I now believe.

First Kiss Twitter

2009-04-17T13:55:00.002-04:00

The First Kiss Project is happy to announce our brand new twitter feed. Longer entries can still be found at this site, but, now, bite-sized stories (of 140 characters or less) will now be posted regularly on twitter.com/1stkissproject.

Enjoy!

At Last, LG

2009-03-15T19:15:00.001-04:00

By the time I was approaching my seventeenth birthday, I had had many first kisses and given many first kisses. I had gotten my first kiss behind my school, given two in a hot tub, had a romantic first kiss in Paris, and an awkward stolen kiss on a couch in a basement, all at sixteen years old. Through it all was Miles, watching from the sidelines since we were thirteen and met playing Laurey and Curly in Oklahoma! He was always a constant in my life, a good friend to talk to, so easy to be open with. My junior year in high school, we ended up involved in a love triangle involving one of his best friends. Being a teenager ruled by hormones, I chose to be with Josh, and we frivolously dated while Miles watched once again. After four months, I realized Josh was never going to be anything more than just a pretty boy, and we parted ways. Finally, Miles had the chance he'd been waiting for for years. Three weeks later, he took my hand and said, "I can't help but smile when I think about being with you" and I realized I had been waiting more than three years for him to be able to say that to me. I had another first kiss and got to give him his real first kiss. This time, he didn't have to watch.

2009-03-09T11:20:00.000-04:00

Katie R., 16

2009-03-09T11:17:00.000-04:00

My first kiss happened about a year ago when my current boyfriend and I were sixteen. We had been dating for about a week and our friends kept "coincidentally" leaving us alone so we could kiss, but we never did because we were both too nervous. One night after one of these nights of being left alone we were talking over text message and it came up that we had not kissed yet. We both agreed that we wanted to, and he agreed to kiss me the next day when he was coming over. Of course this extra planning just made me more nervous. The next day he came over and we went swimming in my backyard with my family in the evening. After everyone got out of the pool my family one by one drifted inside leaving me and him alone. Now I was really nervous. I had been waiting to get alone for it all night, but dreading it at the same time. We were sitting under this little gazebo thing in my backyard for a while just talking. He kept kinda leaning in then pulling back, no doubt just as nervous as I was because it was also his first kiss. Someone who lived on the street behind us started setting off fireworks and we were just sitting there quietly watching them, when suddenly he turned his head and it happened. It was a little bit messy, but surprisingly not that bad. Although he did most of the kissing and I just froze up. It lasted a few seconds and when it ended we both giggled nervously. Not knowing what to say finally he blurts out, "Well that sucked!" I didnt know what to say and he explained to me that he didnt mean he didnt like kissing me just that "we needed more practice." We both giggled and hugged. Now we always joke about the first thing he said to me after our first kiss.

2009-02-23T17:45:00.000-05:00

Allie Urvand, 13

2009-02-22T21:04:00.001-05:00

I was 13, he was 15. We had been friends for a while, and I was so glad when he asked me out. We had been dating for about a month and he hadn't made a move to kiss me (I always let the guy make the fist move). The Halloween, our 4 week anniversary, and his birthday all happened to be on the same day. We were hanging out at a friend's house, and his foster dad (who insisted he followed us) said it was time for him to go. Before he left I pulled him closer (we had been holding hands almost all night) and we kissed. It was really short and awkward because everyone (including his foster dad!) was watching us. After he left all my friends and I spazzed out and went screaming down the streets.

Sixteen and Waiting

2009-02-17T13:34:00.001-05:00

I had been waiting for years for my first kiss and the summer before my junior year it came. I was at a college for a week and this guy and i had started talking. We had hung out a little but we all went to the movies on Thursday. We were just sitting there watching the movie and he had his arm around me. All of a sudden he was kissing my ear and i got really nervous, so i turned around and looked at him. Then, it just happened. It wasn't awkward like i thought it would be, but i don't remember a bit of that movie.

FKP Special Edition, Jon

2009-01-26T12:21:00.000-05:00

Is it your first kiss that matters, or the first kiss between you and your true love? The person with whom you plan to spend your entire life certainly ranks as high as the juvenile fumblings of, well, juveniles. I met my love, my life partner as it was, and still is, lying on a friends couch on a sunny afternoon. I was in a manic fit, rendering me useless until an Adidas track suit was obtained. My amigo knew me and was unruffled by my rushing him out the door to obtain said track suit, however the young lady I was soon to kiss, for the first time, thought me quite unhinged.

Upon our return it was decided that libations would be in order, and so we trekked off to a nearby watering hole. Smoky bar, pool tables and youthful energy; a spark was definitely there. So we began a dance, the mating ritual of the North American Slacker Youth. Gen X crossed with Gen Y, which led to why not? We talked a while, drank some more. A flash of time and she sat next to me, then on my lap. Then we kissed, adrenaline surges and hormones flow. I knew she was the one.

Fifteen years later and we live three blocks from that bar. Don’t remember my very first kiss at all, but I will always remember that kiss.

"Garland Hope," 12

2009-01-12T15:00:00.002-05:00

I was twelve
Too young to know
A kiss from a peck
Old enough to know
What love was suppose to be

His name was Sam
We were friends for a while
Then I hit second grade
And we weren't friends
Our mothers were friends

We were practically strangers
I moved away
He switched schools
We barely spoke

I always knew he had a crush on me

Do you know that reaction?
When you ask
Who loves you and
You don't like
That person,
The answer
To that
God dammed
Stupid question?

When you wince
At first then
Shudder than
Pretend you're
Okay with it
That you really
Weren't hoping
For someone else a –

Prettier more romantic
Someone else- but
Inside your stomach
Is twisting itself into
Sickness and you
Really don't want to
Face the Facts?

That's what happened when Sam kissed me

It was Christmas
His mother invited
My mother over
My mother made
A bee line for their
Kitchen, Sam
Was waiting for me
In the living room

I skipped in and attempted a summersault

I didn't see him at first
I was enthralled with
A TV tray covered
In photographs

His family were the kind
Of people that had
TV tray dinners
On weekends

His mother had
Pristine bathrooms
And his sheets was always
Crisp and cool

That's the only thing
I really remember from
That moment

And the actual kissing part of Corse

There was mistletoe
I guess it was cute
Now-my girlfriends
Tell me it was adorable
My first kiss under mistletoe
How ironic that he didn't
Believe in Christmas

It wasn't subtle
It wasn't adorable
It was awkward
And messy
And uncalled for

I did not see it
Coming, At all
No clue whatsoever
I was prepared for
An hour and a half
At an x-friends
House, I brought
A copy of Harry
Potter and
A blank copy of my math homework

He tried to make
It a great kiss
I think he
Thought it out
Maybe
He studied for
It, maybe
He watched
Old movies
And spied
On people

But I wouldn't
Wish this kiss
On anyone

It was funny
And awkward
And he practically
Attacked me

It was gross
And sloppy
And humorous
And babyish
And unromantic
Overly spontaneous

I wished he asked
It was clumsy
And wrong
And inaccurate
And erroneous
And harsh
And so utterly
Right

It was the only first kiss I'd ever imagine for me
But I wouldn't wish it on anyone else

ed note: this post was edited for length

Blue Summer Dress (Anon., 16)

2009-01-04T18:46:00.000-05:00

We'd been dating for exactly two months and seven days. I was sixteen, and he was seventeen. Absurd, some would say, that we hadn't kissed yet. I agreed, but I was too nervous to do anything about it. We were at my Sweet 16 party in August, on the beach, at night. I wore a flowing blue summer dress; he was dressed in jeans and a blue button-down to match me. We were both barefoot. The sun was going down, the waves crashed onto the shore, and everything was perfect. It was warm outside, but not sticky. There was a slight breeze, but not enough to give me a chill. I don't remember what we were talking about. I don't know who saw, though theoretically, it could have been any of my thirty friends, my parents, or my brother. He leaned down to kiss me. I don't know how I knew it was coming, but I did. It was amazing. There were fireworks later than night over the ocean, and we sat, curled up, watching together. You may call it a cliché, but I didn't see it that way. It was the most memorable night of my life.

Krystal Seko, In the Photo Booth

2008-12-15T08:58:00.002-05:00

It's true that in order to train myself for my first kiss, I had already practiced various techniques on my pillow and hand, but nothing quite prepared me for the battle of tongues that was about to ensue. It was like two wet sea animals flailing around inside my mouth, sometimes poking, sometimes flopping, sometimes frantically moving as if desperate to escape. Besides the occasional change in the tilt of our heads from the left to the right and back again, the rest of our bodies were motionless. Our efforts were so intensely focused on the struggle inside our mouths that we didn't have the capacity or skill to consider doing anything with our hands simultaneously. After about 5 long minutes, I’m pretty sure my tongue surrendered in order to let my lungs get some oxygen.

Miss Persnickety

2008-12-08T12:01:00.000-05:00

It all started like this:

First I saw ma and pa kissin away and my reaction was far from horray. Guess who I saw next? Snow White! So I thought this kissin business must be right... THEN I saw it on t.v. a gal and boy kiss kissin and I felt that's what I might be missin. It didn't stop there NO SIREE. Two little birds were makin it a habit outside on ma tree! It seemed like the whole world was lockin lips, where was I in all of this? So I ran outside as fast as I can, grabbed Mr. Roger's grumpy face with one hand and kissed'em! I was so happy you can't believe, I ran back inside filled with relief. That's it, that's the story of how I got my first kiss. I gotta go now, Mr. Rogers wants to go for a walk...if I can find his leash!

Illustration by Brianna

2008-12-01T14:51:00.002-05:00

WELCOME!

2008-11-19T10:59:00.002-05:00

Hello, new readers. And welcome to The First Kiss Project! Our goal is to collect and record as many first kiss stories as possible. To investigate that sweet or awful moment. To read other people's stories and share your own. To find the common ground we all share as we went from never-been-kissed to something else entirely.

For those of you new to the site, and who would like to submit, please try to keep your submissions on the shorter side. Full entry details can be found at the bottom of this page.

Thanks for visiting, and enjoy!

Carrie Taylor, Minneapolis, MN

2008-11-07T16:35:00.000-05:00

I was 7 years old and desperate to know what kissing was like. I didn't have
a boyfriend and was terrified of my crush, so I pinned my brother down against
his will and gave him a big, sloppy kiss right on the mouth. He wouldn't
speak to me for a week.

Andres D.S. Wilson

2008-09-07T18:31:00.001-04:00

We sat on her bed, together but alone. She put the photos back on the nightstand --
a scrapbook from right-to-left, deserts and smiles, Israel, Russia, IDF uniforms and girls with dark curly hair. I paused and soaked in something new and exotic, taking in whiffs of her own dark curly hair and trying to guess which shampoo she used. There weren't any pictures of him, certainly a good sign. Enshrouded in pillows and posters of cute things, I coyly took my chance, pulling her hand into mine, lost in its softness, leaving a peck on her palm as an open promise. No visible response, but I held those tiny hands tighter and tighter, making my plea without squeezing, gazing out the window as if any other kiss were as far away as the moon or one of those constellations that I always mix up.

She went for it,

punching with her lips, her mouth closed but her eyes wide open, asking in eyelashes. Chris Martin's falsetto acted out my smiling silence, let it expand toward those very stars that seemed so distant. She slipped a smile but caught it right away, perhaps nervous it would become a hardy laugh. From what I knew of her, it seemed really out of character. Then, we leaned back on her bed, kissing but hardly knowing where it would lead, hardly caring, just being.

Andrew W. Turner

2008-09-01T18:40:00.000-04:00

I was Perseus, son of Zeus. She was Medusa, the infamous Gorgon, cursed by Athena to go through eternity with a nest of hideous snakes atop her head.

My first kiss was during the rehearsal of a junior high school production of "Medusa's Tale," a feminist retelling of the classic Greek myth. In the play Perseus hears Medusa's side of the story. He realizes the Gods have cruelly manipulated her. He comes to see the humanity beneath the snakes. He closes her eyes and gives her a tender kiss.

Then he realizes he's not acting like a real man and chops her head off.

"Perseus," our director, Mrs. C, intoned woefully. "I'm going to need a little more from the kiss."

More what? I knew what a kiss was in theory. I knew it involved a mashing of lips. I knew the tongue, like an earthworm after a heavy rain, sometimes made an appearance, eyeless and flapping. But angles, pressure, penetration… these were all variables I was completely unclear about.

There was also the matter of the mechanical snakes atop Medusa's head. They had been wired by Vern, our resident trailor park techie, and gave off flammable-looking sparks.

Our second kiss was even worse than the first. The third and fourth even moreso. Our supporting cast (Athena, Zeus, and Poseidon) snickered in the wings.

"Let's move onto the next part," said Mrs. C after what seemed like an eternity.

Medusa and I breathed a sigh of relief. Then I unsheathed my sword and chopped her head off.

Lauren at 15, by Dan Bruton

2008-08-25T18:36:00.000-04:00

When I started backing the car out of the garage, I placed my arm on the back of her seat as I turned and looked through the rear windshield. I was two months away from getting my license, and the car my parents already bought was taunting me to drive it. I clumsily put the car in gear and slowly pulled into the street.

"You sure you won’t get in trouble for this?" Lauren asked.
"Rules are meant to be broken." Did I really just say that? God I am cheesy, I thought to myself.

I drove down the road about a mile and slid the Mazzy Star cd in. My friends were already having sex while listening to this cd, and I thought it must have had some kind of magical power. I turned the volume up slowly and nervously placed my hand on Lauren’s thigh as 'Fade Into You' began playing. Tonight was it; I'm going to make it happen.

We stumbled through awkward conversation as I drove the car for a few more minutes and made my way back to the house. I pulled the car back into the garage and shut the engine off, but kept the key in the accessories position so the cd continued to play. Both Lauren and I froze up, and I knew that it was her first too. I leaned over and began the kiss with a gentle closed mouth peck, which quickly turned into a sloppy jaw wrestling marathon. We stayed in the car as the cd ended and skipped back over to the first track, just in time.

Katie*

2008-08-17T19:17:00.000-04:00

My face went beet red. I just kind of smiled and mumbled out this embarrassed thanks. I then proceeded to fall off the swing, landing flat on my ass. She started cracking up, and I got even more embarrassed. I asked for a hand to get up. When she reached to grab my hand I pulled her down. As luck would have it she fell right on top of me, our faces inches apart, and then it happened. I don't know how it happened, who initiated it, or what was going through either of our heads, but it happened: We kissed. Now to be fair, this was my first kiss. Yes I know that its really dorky of me to have not had my first kiss by this point, but it was perfect. I felt those fireworks that you always hear about. Lame I know, but it was just amazing. So anyway, we continued to make out for a while rolling around on the ground and finally just stopped and lay like that. We sat there holding hands looking at the sky and at the stars.

When we said our good nights, I walked back home incredibly miserable and ecstatic at the same time

*This story was edited for length.

Lyla P. @ age 16

2008-08-04T16:24:00.000-04:00

I remember I couldn't stand Rob for years before. He got on my nerves and seemed to fish with me and a friend just to annoy me. I thought he was too skinny and too young (he was a year younger than myself). Every summer I would see him again though and one summer I started to look at him differently. I would talk to him, just the two of us and little by little I was more and more attracted, no matter how much of a jerk he was in front of my friends. One night, late at the beach, he started messing with me. He took my shoes and put them where I couldn't reach. All of a sudden he put his arms around my waste. I'm pretty sure I turned bright red. We snuck off somewhere where we could be alone and all of a sudden we were kissing. We kissed so deeply, for so long, I forgot where we were and all I could think about was him. Although funny enough neither of us really knew what we were doing. No matter how much of a jerk he was at times I always felt like I knew him better and I remember our first kiss as being pure and wonderful.

Innocence, 17

2008-07-27T19:20:00.002-04:00

I had felt for a long time that, although as a girl I've dreamed and wondered about a kiss for a long time (dreaming of a prince charming or a shining knight from a storybook), that in the act of a first kiss, something precious would be lost. I felt that some sense of innocence would fall away and I would never be able to go back. I have received many warnings from people, most saying to wait to kiss someone until you feel sure that they are, or are at least the type, of person you are going to marry.

It's the summer after my junior year of highschool. This moment was only two weeks ago. You see our relationship started off with a little drama, each of us with someone else in relationships wasn't really going anywhere. We had an instant connection, couldn't stop talking, seemed utterly fascinated by each other. I can't begin to express how wonderful he is, how accepting of the darkness in my nature, of my past, or how his eyes light up when he smiles. I can't begin to express the sense of finality that is here, despite our youth, each of us seventeen. We both believe, maybe just feel, that God intended this, put this love into being, made us for this purpose, to be together.

And we were standing by the river, under a metal roof by a picnic table. I asked him why it was he always took his glasses off around me. He looked cute in them. He replied it was easier to do things like this---reached out and pulled my chin up gently and kissed me. It wasn't what I expected from watching movies, and I didn't open my mouth. I just froze. It reminded me then of a fish, because he kissed me straight on without turning his head and the way I imagined. His lips looked then reminded me of that fish face you make when you press your cheeks in with your hands. I felt lightheaded, dizzy, felt my face flush deeply.

I remembered looking up at him once, he was smiling, almost a smirk that said, you look so cute when you're embarrassed. I felt ashamed, maybe guilty, I didn't understand what to do. And it hadn't even been two months. I felt like I'd lost something. As time passed and I had time to think, I realized I hadn't lost anything. I knew exactly where it was. It rested on the lips of the man I loved. And he wasn't going anywhere. Another try, and I still couldn't move. A third a while later and I kissed him back. Then I kissed him.

He told me once that my kiss was different. I asked if that was bad. He replied that it wasn't bad, he just thought maybe it was different because I was the first girl he had kissed who loved him back. And that's the story. Well, once piece of it. It continues to this day...and hopefully, God willing, it will continue until the day I die.

My First Kiss X, Age 5

2008-07-20T21:06:00.000-04:00

My first kiss was when i was five. I was at pre-school, on one of my last days and all us little kids where playing truth or dare.

It came to mine turn and i chose dare. My dare was for me and a boy called Taylor to kiss. We agreed to it but only if we could go around behind to buliding and no one watched us. They all said ok, so Taylor and I made our way round the back of the buliding.

We didn't have to kiss cause no one would ever know if we did or didn't, but he leaned in and kissed me on the lips. It was the cutest thing. We were just two little, freckled kids.

Katherine Shimanovsky, Age 17

2008-06-30T09:48:00.002-04:00

I had just finished my junior year of H.S. and it was my summer vacation. It was daytime and my best friend Jennifer and I were sitting on her bed in her Brighton Beach studio apartment. Her mother was at work and we were just chatting and goofing around. Somehow we got to the topic of kissing and I mentioned to her how I was frustrated that I still hadn’t received my first kiss. She looked at me and smiled, then offered to be my first. She leaned in and we kissed. Not only was it my first peck on the lips, but a full-on French kiss. She had braces and I couldn’t even tell. We kissed some more and it was wonderful. My first kiss was from someone I really cared about and it was so memorable.

Anonymous, 14

2008-06-23T12:02:00.000-04:00

My first kiss was when I was 14. My oldest cousin's best friends came over and we were hanging out all day. Each time the room was clear he'd go one step closer. First he held my hand, then he kissed me on the cheek, then he kissed me, and the last kiss of the night occured when I was getting ready to leave my aunt's house.

Me and him were in the kitchen by ourselves and I had a hood on and wasn't looking up cause he has always made me nervous (in a butterfly sort of way). He walked up to me, put his hand under my chin and slowly lifted my face so we were looking at each other and then moved in.

It was perfect, not too much, not enough, it was just right. What made it really hilarious is that NO ONE in my family knows it happened and my aunt asked me not to hang around him by myself (mainly cause I'm the only girl in the family and they are over protective). It was just an ironic end to a perfect night......ah the memories.....I should call him :)

Alexandria P., First Kiss Second Chance

2008-06-16T14:40:00.001-04:00

Are we talking about our first first kiss, or our second first kiss?

I was a junior in high school before I had my first kiss. His name was Richy. We were set up as a blind date for prom. We were just hanging out at post-prom (which my high school always held at the local bowling alley) and he just leaned over and kissed me. We ended up really hitting it off, and dated for about 4 months after that. Like most high school couples we ended up breaking up over something really stupid, the thing is, we both regretted that break up for the next seven years.

We kept in contact through short, infrequent visits, e-mails, and phone calls. Whenever we had a problem in our life we would go to each other for help and comfort. After numerous failed relationships for each of us, a failed marriage for each of us, and one kid for each of us (he has another one on the way), and a mutual friend telling us that we still had feelings for each other, we worked up the nerve to really tell each other how we were feeling. Three months, thousands of cell phone minutes, and countless MySpace songs posted to each other later, we finally had our first kiss for the second time around. My daughter and I had just moved back to Minnesota from Florida, along with that mutual friend, we went to visit Richy... as soon as the house emptied, he called me back to him, and without saying a word, pulled me into him and kissed me.

It wasn't the clumsy, nose-bumping kind of first kiss that many of us remember. Instead, it was a very familiar kiss, one that I remembered from the past, but it was now filled with a new passion that had been pent up for the past seven years. Every kiss since then has held that same passion, and we've felt the gratefulness of having a second chance.

Tracey Hunter, 7th grade

2008-06-08T08:41:00.000-04:00

Interesting Place / Sweet Kiss

It was 1986…Shane Dimmit was his name. He was the epitome of cute; tan, blonde hair, athletic what more is a seventh grade girl looking for. We had been on a double date, if you will, to the movies. I couldn't tell you what movie was playing, heck I can't even tell you all the parties involved in the double date, but I do remember that the "pick up" parents worked across the street from the mall at Ernst hardware. While we were waiting for our ride we cruised the aisles of the hardware store and there in the middle of the toilet seat aisle I received my first kiss. Not slobbery, no tongue, just a sweet, genuine 7th grade kiss.

KJC - 1989, early freshman year of high school, 13 years old

2008-06-02T09:31:00.000-04:00

It was already a bad day because I had lost one of my contacts down the sink drain that morning and could really only see out of one eye. I just wanted the day to be over. But I had a basketball game that night so I was stuck at school. After classes, I walked my newly minted "boyfriend" to the bus stop. The bus shows up, we say goodbye with a chaste hug and he makes his way toward the door.

Then! All of a sudden! Like lightening, he backtracks, grabs me, and plants a giant kiss on my lips! Complete with tongue. I didn't kiss him back - or like, even open my mouth. I was too stunned! Plus I didn't know how. Plus I could only see out of one eye. Plus everyone on the bus was cheering and clapping. It was all highly disorienting.

He left on the bus and I went directly to the locker room where I reported the situation to the entire freshman girl's basketball team. They were very impressed. I went to Catholic school so any rampant displays of affection are high currency.

Then I scored my first (okay, and only) points of the season that night in the game, despite being half blind and just kissed for the very first time!

So I guess the day turned out okay...

"My First Kiss," Anonymous

2008-05-27T10:01:00.001-04:00

I am a freshman in highschool.
My first kiss happened this year.

It started when i went to volunteer at a local spring by his house. He showed up because i told him I'd signed him up, even though i didnt. So Yes, i was a little bit of a liar to get him there. but he came anyway. It was an akward morning, and then it came, we were finally alone, together. He leaned in...

and I was ready to die, i was scared to death I would do it badly, that i would do it wrong. So i pulled away, it was supposed to be his first kiss too. By the look on his face he was devistated. but i couldnt bring myself to try again. i was ready to cry.

So, i went a whole weekend without talking to him. but i had to go to school on monday. i tried my hardest to ignore every couple in the halls screaming failure at me. At the end of the day he walked me to the bus, I decided I would do it then, i wasnt going to think about it... I stood up on my tippy-toes and planted a small peck on his lips. I turned the deepest red imaginable, and my poor heart fluttered out of control. he smiled a little, but i couldnt make any words come out.
so i turned around and started to get on the bus.

In a way i failed. again.
but thats ok.
the next day we did it again... :)

David from Wayne, NJ

2008-05-18T13:26:00.002-04:00

My First Kiss (not a predictor of things to come)

I was in 8th grade, and I had a friend who was smooth enough (and developed enough) to have lost his virginity back in the 6th grade. This seemed shockingly early to me, but I was quietly impressed. There were stories circulating at the time about Bar Mitzvah parties where kids played spin the bottle and were frenching left and right. Somehow, this didn't happen at any of the Bar Mitzvahs that I was invited to.

Well, my friend and I rode the same schoolbus to and from junior high, and one day, after the bus dropped us off, he decided he was gonna help me get to first base. This involved two girls - one who we were both friends with and lived close to the bus stop, and another who was only friends with him. The four of us walked to the one girl's nearby house and sat on the grass. My pal then proposed a makehshift game of spin the bottle, or maybe truth or dare; I can't remember which. So as to take some pressure off me, the game was rigged so that he and his friend kissed first. They leaned in, locked lips, and probed each other's mouths with their tongues the way pubescent teens do. After a few seconds, they pulled away and both claimed how weird it was because they were just friends, and never looked to each other for romantic stuff like that.

OK, my turn. I wasn't all that nervous when I leaned in and engaged my friend. My first thought was that her lips felt nice, and then that I enjoyed the sensual quality of it. But this all quickly changed, and was replaced by the knowledge that she had, um, excess saliva. Bubbly saliva. I hung in there for a good 10 seconds out of respect for her and my mission. After we released from our embrace however, I just had to do something with the new contents of my mouth. I rolled over and spit into the grass, and probably uttered an insensitive blechh-type noise. It really wasn't very nice, especially because she may have liked me. It soured me on the thought of french kissing for a while. But some years later I met a girl I liked, and when passion brought us to that place, making out was restored to a proper place of respect in my mind. Thank goodness.

Ben H & Daily Bedpost

2008-05-14T15:19:00.003-04:00

Welcome friends of the Daily Bedpost. Thanks for coming to visit. And thanks to Em & Lo for the interview. Here's a quickie for Bedpost-ers. Enjoy!

* * * * *

Ben H.
I was 17 and it tasted like orange juice. But other than that it was pretty cool.

Joshua Lindenbaum, 11 years old

2008-05-04T23:07:00.001-04:00

We were in a patch of trees and plants in the middle of a field, it was like an island on land. I think we were playing truth or dare or spin the bottle -- one of those games. And me and Michelle kissed.

My first kiss... We both at first pretended like we didn't want to in fear of rejection of one another, but we did anyway. I was eleven years old and I felt like the man.
It was awkward, scary, but at the end it was nice. I'll never forget it.

Travis, 16

2008-04-27T15:32:00.000-04:00

I was a junior in high school when I got my first kiss.

It wasn't because I didn't like girls, it was that I was petrified of them. And by my junior year, I was beginning to feel like the forty-year-old virgin. I mean, some of my classmates where having kids already and here I was.

I had met the girl when she moved into town my sophomore year. One of her parents was working with the same company my dad worked for. She had a car and lived nearby so she drove me to school. We became friends, but nothing more. In fact, she almost immediately began to date someone else, joined the cheer leading team, and became really popular. I took the smart classes and played on the soccer team. Not much more.

So they dated for a while and broke up over the summer. Though I didn't know it at the time, I think I was her rebound.

We probably went to a movie or two before the kiss. It happened when she was dropping me off at my house. We were in the driveway. She turned off the engine. My mouth went dry. It was plain daylight.

"You probably know I've never kissed anyone before," I said.

"I know."

"I don't even know what to do."

"Just lean back and close your eyes."

So I did, there, in the passenger seat, in my driveway, in plain sight of anyone and everyone.

I felt her coming closer.

When her lips touched mine I did an unexpected thing. I wrapped my arms around her tight and tried to shove my tongue as far down her throat as I possibly could.

It must have only lasted a few seconds and then she pulled away.

"How was it?" I said.

"It was a kiss."

"It was bad, I know. I'm sorry."

She shook her head.

Travis Leger
New Orleans

2008-04-20T11:31:00.004-04:00

picture care of lolcats
The First Kiss Project is having some technical difficulties of late. But don't worry. We're working on it, and hope to be back soon with even more first kiss stories.

V. Lam, 1991

2008-03-09T10:01:00.000-04:00

having gone to an all girls school, boys were very foreign to me.

until the summer of 1991. i went away for the summer and met the very cool, very mature for his age, korean wrestler, eddy june park.

we first met at a dance where i was wearing my $20 neon green gingham dress from the gap. it was very not tackariffic, but i somehow, that night, i felt like i was the shit.

it was truly a night of firsts. he asked me to dance. my first dance with a boy. i felt something hard in his pants. um, i had no idea what that even was. so yes, a first. then afterwords, he grabbed my hand and we walked outside.

alone with a boy, first.
holding hands with a boy, another first.

and then it happened. he leaned it. my heart raced. i think i might have blacked out for a moment. it was totally weird. not sexy. not hot at all. but it was done with. i had had my first kiss.

Linked Kissses

2008-02-25T10:18:00.002-05:00

Here is a good story about first kisses, sent in by Cameron Moore, OCR News Assistant. Written by Lori Basheda at the Orange County Register

Sue will never forget their first kiss. Bob, on the other hand, forgot it almost as soon as it happened.
Read more.

Alyssa, BC

2008-02-18T10:26:00.000-05:00

My first kiss summed up in one word would have to be awkward.

It was a week after my 17th birthday, and in a week we’d be off to school again – me a senior and him a junior. I had never been kissed before, or even had a boyfriend. In fact, C wasn’t my boyfriend and I knew that it was a mistake to even go to his house but I was determined to have my first kiss before I graduated.

I had always been a flirt, as had he. Two years prior to the kiss I had met him through my at the time best friend. When my friend and I got in a fight about whether we should date or not, C was there to comfort my broken heart and had seemingly stuck around after.

We were in his room, his sister in the one next to us. I had “snuck” in through the back door like he told me, saying “it would be more fun”. Since his door did not lock, he places a small dresser in front of it while I waiting on the bed, patiently, scared.

He sat down on the bed as well, telling me to come closer so he could hug me knowing something was on my mind. I told him it was nothing and lay down on my back while he followed next to me, yet him on his side and facing me.

For some reason or another I turned towards him and he came closer. My conscious thoughts were “Why the hell is he coming so close? Oh my, he wants to kiss. Well, why not?” and went for it. It was wet, and his tongue was much thicker and slimier than I had thought it would be. I had no idea what to do, but he seemed to guide me along and I quickly caught on of when to breathe and when to not. After, we played chess.

Eric Morder, "Sunset"

2008-02-11T10:06:00.000-05:00

Oh Sarah!

we didn't know what would happen
but things did happen
and things will happen
like that.

but there we were,
sitting in an abandoned ice factory
in our hometown
it was freezing
and we held hands with gloves on
and we had our first kiss
a few weeks after meeting
flirting (I remember, Sarah,
perhaps one day we would
dance amongst the tallest
most majestic trees
under the full moon
elves we would be
I always called you my dear elf
we would dance
and we would hold hands
and we would sing
and we would look
with ancient wisdom
and complete acceptance
when Frodo wishes to look
in our lady's pool
playing music together
I was 14 you were 15
I bought you sparkling cranberry juice
when you didn’t make it to school
and I found you alone
in your home
on the hill
parents still at work
no siblings
only that ridiculous dog of yours
which you playfully tortured
and he loved you for it
you saying you couldn't tell
the difference
between my playing
and the record
and the volleyball marathon
all night
where you put your head on my shoulder.) we
had our first kiss and that was so good
we had another
boards hanging from nails from the rafters
weeds sticking up through the floor boards
the pale winter sky showing
in the glassless sectioned windows.
our heads were not clear
but we'd never drank
our eyes were pools and
neither of us knew that the sun would
ever set again.

Kerstin Porter, "He Gave Me My First Kiss"

2008-02-04T11:33:00.000-05:00

I climbed up behind my house to the cemetery where I would meet my boyfriend; my first boyfriend I did not think had cooties. I could not wait to see him. Whenever around him my heart beat so hard and fast I wondered if something was wrong with my heart, luckily no medical problem caused my throbbing heart.

I sat alone on a huge tombstone labeled Blood, slowly getting soaked by the rain drizzling through the foliage. Somehow the melancholy scene felt quite romantic. I waited and waited for him to come walking up the hill, but as time past my heart slowed to a normal pace and the romantic atmosphere darkened. The wetness soaked through to my skin finally chilling me to an unbearable temperature and bringing the realization that he was not coming. I headed home not sure if I should be mad or sad or not even care. It was the first time I had ever been stood up.

Returning to my empty home I sat in front of the woodstove staring at dancing flames, emotionless. I still could not understand what had happened or why it happened. The phone rang, I did not move. It rang again; I turned as if to see someone else answer it. It rang again. The answering machine picked up, silence, a breath, than his voice. A knot kinked in my stomach making it hard to comprehend what he was saying. I did not want to hear any excuse, he left me in the rain, alone, waiting and all of the sudden my emotions cleared and I was pissed. Then I heard it, “I am so sorry I left you. I need you.” I believed him. I knew with those words the excuse could be understood.

He showed up at my door, soaked, pathetic, and so handsome. His mother became rather ill that morning and he had to run her to the hospital. I had felt completely alone, deserted, and sorry for myself, while he ran around helping someone who needed him more than I. And now he showed up needing me. I wanted him to know I would do what I could. I moved my face extremely close to his not really knowing why and somehow our lips touched. My heart sped up to such an incredible speed I thought he would have to take me to the hospital. I did not know if I should stay there or turn away before my heart exploded. Somehow my heart stayed in my chest and my lips on his. He slowly pulled away, giving me my first kiss.

Amanda Green, "My First Kiss (And Maybe His, Too)"

2008-01-28T10:06:00.000-05:00

When I was maybe five, this boy my mom babysat knocked teeth with me while we played house. Some people might call that a kiss, but I didn't think it counted.

What did count was that 10 years after a boy in Batman underpants tried to kiss me, Justin actually did. He attended a rival high school where we'd met at a weekend performing arts tournament. He'd competed in One-Act Play and Extemporaneous Speaking; I was the reigning Lincoln-Douglas Debate district champion and a mediocre Poetry entrant.

Between competitions, Justin delivered his smooth line: "I've been wanting to ask you something all day – do you have a phone?"

I sarcastically responded, "Me? A phone? What on Earth is that?!" I was hard on the guy. The truth is, I had classmates who didn't have a home phone. I lived in rural Texas in a town with a weeklong school holiday in honor of the livestock show.

Justin was the first boy who'd shown any romantic interest in me. He also happened to be very cute in that all-American strip mall kind of way. In case you're wondering, he was as good at acting as I was at poetry. The entire school was abuzz when I brought my handsome stranger to the home baseball game for the sole purpose of showing him off. He pretended not to notice.

Justin's school beat mine at the game that night, but I didn't care. After ice cream cones at Dairy Queen, we sat in his pick-up truck in the parking lot of an insurance agency. The Top 40 radio station we loved spat out ditty after ditty. Justin looked into my eyes in a terrifying way, as if he were imitating something on his mom's soaps.

I knew he was going to kiss me, and I didn't know how to kiss back. I also knew I would never admit the latter. We held hands for a bit and he leaned in for a peck during "Uninvited" by Alanis Morissette.

I thought the song was an ironic touch. I concentrated on it as Justin's tongue wiggled past my lips and teeth, bumping my gums and I think, even my uvula, as we kissed for the first time. It was dreadful, and now I suspect it was his first, too. At least, that would be a good excuse.

Charles A. Rubin, "First Kiss Revisted"

2008-01-06T19:20:00.000-05:00

I had misplaced the memory of the first girl that I kissed until about 2 weeks ago.

From 1966 through 1970 I attended a summer camp about fifty miles north of New York City. I have nothing but fond memories from my summer years there. The camp closed in 1971 and gradually I lost touch with the almost everyone that had peopled those years. Oddly, the woman I married was an alumnus of this camp but we never knew each other at camp and it is not her that this story is about.

This story is about Celia who I met in 1969. Originally, I was drawn toward her sister who was my age and two years older than Celia. There was an unwritten rule in the camp, though, that boys could only be involved with girls a year younger and therefore Margi was off limits. Celia on the other hand was OK. Celia wasn’t like the other girls; she had a head of curly brown hair in an age where you had to have long straight hair, she also wasn’t going to wait for a boy or anyone to talk to her. She made her own friends and made her own choices. I liked being around her because she was funny and opinionated. We were friends and indeed she may have been the first girl that I was ever friendly with.

When we returned home at the end of the summer I began to correspond to Celia (by mail!) since she lived in The Bronx and I in Brooklyn. My father had a thing about the phone bill and would confront me when there were charges for calls. When we returned to camp in 1970 I came with the assumption that we would be boyfriend and girlfriend. Celia had different ideas. We tried and managed a clumsy kiss in her bunk on one of the first nights of camp but we both found other love interests that summer and, in the end, it was the last summer at the camp for both of us.

Recently I discovered a dedicated group of people who had established e-mail list to share photos and reminiscences about the camp. Perusing the photos that had been posted I found one of myself, that Celia had posted. With trembling fingers I sent her an e-mail asking if she remembered me. Within minutes came a reply saying that of course she remembered me, that she had lots more pictures, and a bunch of letters that I had written her. I didn’t know whether to be flattered or mortified.

Three days later we met for lunch in midtown Manhattan after not having seen each other or spoke in 36 years. Celia brought the letters and photographs and other camp memorabilia. It was a wonderful reunion that I didn’t want to end.

Raeann Drew, "Knocked Off My Feet"

2007-12-16T12:19:00.000-05:00

Bill was a good friend. One day, as all curious preteen good friends of the opposite sex do, we decided to take our friendship to the next level: we were going to make out. I don’t remember the reason why we decided to complete such a mature part of our lives that particular day; it was broad daylight on a summer afternoon and Bill’s mom, a school employee who was off during summer, was lurking somewhere in the vicinity. Thus we decided we had to keep this tonsil hockey session discreet. We snuck around the back of Bill’s dad’s tool shed: it was perfect.

We got ready. I licked my lips, took a deep breath; not only was I about to taste whatever Bill had for lunch, but I would also get a taste of what it was like to be a woman, or at least a teenager, which every 11 year old girl desperately longs for. This was it.

Bill leaned in, and I took a slight step backward and just as the magic started happening I lost my balance and stepped backward right into a ditch. The moment was over. Our hearts stopped fluttering, birds stopped singing, sweet music stopped playing and the ambient noise of cars and the hum of lawn mowers came back, along with our we’ve-never-done-this-before nervousness. Bill helped me out of the ditch and we decided to go play videogames instead – maybe we’d give adulthood a try later.

As we were walking across the yard, my foot felt a little sticky. I took a glance down and realized my entire foot and the grass surrounding it was covered in blood, and there was a fresh supply spurting from a gaping wound in my left ankle. Bill raced off to find his mom and I hobbled up the sun-faded wooden stairs, sat down, and waited patiently on the deck. His mom came dashing out of the house, wide-eyed and frantic with a cordless phone in one and a dishtowel in the other.

Her face was paler the tan line where my socks should've been (a combination of socks and shoes could've probably prevented this mess in the first place). She dropped the phone twice as she fumbled to dial my mom and shoved the towel on the gash; as it soaked with blood she would peep under it to see the carnage, mumble some kind of frantic "oh dear" concerned mother type of mumble, and ask me how I was feeling. Perhaps I was still reeling from my recent brush with adulthood, but I wasn’t feeling much of anything. All I kept saying was, "wow, it's so cool, look you can see bone!" Every time I said it, her face turned from white to green and back again.

My mom's car flew into the driveway and she charged up the stairs. A nurse for a million years, she automatically went into nurse mode. It was determined that I needed stitches, stat! We called our family doctor and were instructed to go to a hospital that we had never been to before, in area we knew nothing about. My leg continued to saturate towel after towel as we turned around, backed up, and made U-turns around the unfamiliar town. Once we found the hospital, a disenchanted receptionist casually glanced at the cascade of blood erupting from my ankle, told us to take a seat and handed us a box of tissues to dam the bleeding. After we finished the first box, we were given a second one and told to wait patiently; apparently nobody saw this as an emergency.

I got seven stitches, which completely impressed my fifth grade friends. When they asked what happened, I just said I fell in a ditch –- no need for details. I may not have become a woman that sultry summer day, but I became "the girl with stitches, cooool!" and that was good enough for me.

J. Williams, "A Kiss"

2007-12-09T18:15:00.000-05:00

It was early May and her name was Lena Callaghan. My sister Tasha made me do it. She had known for a long time that I had developed an embarrassingly obvious crush on her long time friend. If I didn’t know any better, I would swear on a stack of bibles that my sister’s only goal was to completely embarrass me in front of her friends and, worst of all, the girl of my many wet dreams and pleasant fantasies. Lena and I started as friends, but before friendship, we were nothing. We weren’t even cordial to one another. We just had nothing to say to each other for whatever reason at the time.

Lena confided in my sister on my birthday in 1995 that she had in fact developed a little crush on me as well. My sister was never good at keeping a secret. She instantly ran to me and told me what Lena had said. Since I shared Lena’s feeling for me, I decided to ask her out and I picked the perfect time to do so—her birthday. She thought I was sweet, comparing my asking her out on her birthday to being proposed to on Valentines Day. I hadn’t made the connection but I didn’t care. I got her!

We were both fourteen years old and in our second year of high school. We hadn’t ever had a relationship before each other so we had no one to live up to and no one to be better than. It was beautiful. Weeks had gone by after we started to date and Lena and I had done nothing more than hold hands. That was it. My sister noticed that we were shy and afraid to give each other as much as a kiss on the cheek. She in her own way tested my manhood and I wasn’t happy.

It was offensive, it was embarrassing and I felt insulted. After several minutes of back and forth bantering, I sat down on the bed next to Lena, grabbed her shoulder and turned her to me; then I planted one on her. I threw her down on the bed, gingerly and kissed her on the lips for nearly forty-five seconds.

Lena gave me my first kiss. I’ll always remember that and I’ll always love her for that. Because of that kiss, I had confirmed what I had known for a very long time but refused to admit to myself - I was gay.

Ray Rubin

2007-12-03T12:44:00.001-05:00

The boy at the corner gave me that look first. I was walking by on one of those painful winter days pinching your cheeks pink and your back hunches bracing the cold like a punch in a stomach. When his eyes first glanced in my direction, I thought he might be awaiting someone. He was tall and thin like a musician. His hair was dark and curly, his face pale. All he wore to keep warm was a blue scarf. His hands were shoved in his pockets. It was really too cold to wait even a seconds pause but his eyes caught mine in an awkward intimacy.

He locked his gaze on mine. Even if I wanted to tear myself away, my eyes were caught. I knew this happenstance quite well: A girl did not need to be prettier than a crow for a boy to stare. I knew that but my heart started pounding heavy bass and my cheeks flushed. If possible for them to redden even further, at that point rouge was a blush and my cheeks were deeper than Marilyn's blazing red.

The look barely lasted in time but it engraved my soul. I was more let down about the time than the deeper consequences. I walked quickly past the corner nearly tripping over the ice patches on the sidewalk. A strong wind soaked my bones and drenched my blood with its severity. I was nearly home and the "kiss" I had just received from a total stranger fleeted like the way it had come.

After some minutes of this death march, I was at my door at last fumbling in my purse for key. It was in the same pocket as last time I looked. My hands were stiff and iced cold. Getting that key in the lock felt warming - I was almost in.

Pushing open the door, my otherwise drafty place felt toasty like in a bakery. Shedding all the trappings and layers of winter, I found myself staring in the bathroom mirror. The fleeting thought had returned. I stood there just wondering about the boy. Why did he look at me? Am I even pretty? What did he see in me? However, most of all Why is my heart still beating with a rhythm of love.

Well, love is that, oh too over used word no one is sure if it is a verb, adjective or noun. It has lost its truth over time and has so many variations. The word has been overplayed in every chord and every darn creation tries to manipulate it theirs.

Love that word colored pink. I was still standing in thought when the doorbell rang. I tousled my hair around, made it look messy but good enough. I dapped on it a bit of my roommates' Vaseline that was lying around. Looking in that silver lined piece of glass I ran to answer the door. It was only my roommate.

She comes in bitter like old man winter from the cold. "Why are you all made up?" I tell her, "Oh no, I jut came in."

"No, you look like you are in love."

"Love- no. I just came running in from that Arctic chill. That's all."

She was not satisfied but she left me alone. She is a girl who read one too many romance novels and had a date at least twice a week. She wanted someone to commiserate with over the reality of love. I was a poor choice. In my first years of teaching I always looked like I was about to yell. My nerves were on edge and all I could think about was a weekend of sleep when no frustrated students would be at my throat. I went to bed early so I would be at my best for the kids but it did not help. Nightly, I would lie in bed and just think about all the things I wished to be or could not be. I had pity parties in bed. Lonely with my friends all dating and gibbering I kept myself awake with the thoughts of where else I could be. I became an insomniac and drunk over thoughts of the Himalayans, a low light bar with some jazz. I was beautiful, I was brazen, I was under those bright lights.

I woke up cranky and back in my bed with my blanket off my bed. No wonder I was cold.

My roommate's name was Draiza. She came from Australia and on every blistering damned cold day, she blamed me for my country's weather. She made herself an herbal tea and attributed it antibiotic powers. Good for her. I am glad she never gets sick. I want to get sick; I need a day off from those kids. While she kicked back with her holy drink I made myself a cup of chocolate milk, the one where you squeeze the chocolate syrup in the cup like 2/3 the way up and then add the milk.

Draiza listens to lots of spa style music - the kind where the men come chanting and where I do not know the instruments. She feels it is relaxing. I feel it grating but I keep quiet.

Draiza picks up where we left off when she first came in.

"Who is the guy?"

I think for a minute to tell her about the boy on the corner but on second thought, it was really nothing. For some girls it is as common as breathing but for me it felt like 'Spring Awakening' of something hidden, pretty and unknown.

Carla, 13-yrs-old

2007-11-25T17:45:00.000-05:00

His name was Paul and I met him at band camp. Well, choir camp. He may have been disturbed, but I always had a thing for the hard to get guys. We finally spoke on the last day of camp and decided to exchange addresses. Yes. Actual, physical, addresses.

We wrote letters for weeks before he asked me to be his girlfriend. I was thirteen and thrilled, he was 16 and tormented. But I didn't care. It was so romantic. I even kept all of his letters.

Finally my parents agreed to drive me out to see him. FINALLY And we went to the natural history museum. My ridiculous attempt at a cover for what I was sure was coming. And so, under cover of the planetarium, he kissed me.

I felt right and wrong at the same time. I had never been kissed, much less french kissed before. This, of course, was shortly followed by a clumsy attempt to feel me up that left me feeling dirty for hours...

In the end, it wasn't meant to be. The kiss was over and the magic was gone. I never saw him again.

Robert Calero, "A Few First Kisses"

2007-11-11T21:05:00.000-05:00

A Few First Kisses

A courtyard kid's game of catch and kiss,
and I slowed down.
Caught by my neighbor,
we entered my stairwell
and pressed our mouths,
as if they were elbows or knees.
Afterwards, the other children laughed:
never intending
consummation of the competition.

Us kids crowd round the twirling bottle,
yet too young for postures.
Parents upstairs, little we cared,
and atop the tables were brown bowls
filled with brittle pretzels.
She was the first whirl: comical girl from Japan.
All sweat and odd knots,
our tongues felt foreign between each other's teeth.
We held hands for the evening,
despite our newborn itch.

She lay in my lap
as I sat on the curb.
The block was lined with kegs, grills,
young boys and girls,
we were all drunk on stale beer.
I sunk my neck to reach her.
Our inverted mouths met.
My heart and belly held warm wax
as our lips flickered like amber flame
about a twisted wick.
Once done she thanked me for her first
and I learned thirst.
One day we'd kiss in a torrent,
and like a Pavlov dog
I no longer mind the rain.

She spoke of Plato and Socrates
as she sipped her vodka & lime.
I offered to walk her home
but instead she led me to a bench
where the woods commence
of northern New York.
Her face was fixed with the perfect kissable mouth.

We woke in bed beside one another,
beneath the heated sheets of an august morning.
She slept and I pressed against her.
She woke with reciprocity.
We knew it was wrong
and it ended in departure.

Another returned.
We kissed knelt before my wooden porch door.
Neither of us knew what it entailed,
and perhaps never will.

I read her Joyce from my pillow
in the pre-dawn black of my bedroom,
all at her request.
Alongside my recital,
she found my kisses to be O so dirty.

At the tail-end of the party,
last one of the year,
we met and danced
and met once more.
She had a caramel complexion
and loved that I could keep tempo
between her rotund hips.
The last thing we exchanged was numbers,
and I never called her.

Lips, lips, and tender tongues.
Kiss & tell, everyone.

Naomi Major, "[sigh] Mark Holland"

2007-11-04T18:03:00.000-05:00

I wasn't so much sweet sixteen and never been kissed as self-doubting sixteen and never fathoming a boy actually noticing me and wanting to kiss me. I spent most of my teens in fantasy, watching Molly Ringwald movies and imaging I too could be swept up by the cool guy and never have to worry about feeling ostracized again.

At high school in Toronto, I played in the concert band. Part of the program was to exchange bands with an American high school. The night the band from Evanston, Illinois arrived we all waited in the school gym to greet them, and that's when I saw Him. He was the most beautiful boy I'd ever seen. And he was popular; he was enveloped by friends laughing and joking; he didn't seem to notice he was in a foreign country surrounded by strangers. I thought I saw him look at me, but I knew I was mistaken.

They began calling out names. At "Mark Holland" he stood up. Instantly I thought of my options. Naomi Holland or Naomi Major-Holland. I thought he smiled at me, but I knew I was mistaken.

I wasn't mistaken. He did look at me. He did smile at me. And then during the four days of the exchange he talked to me. And then on the last night of the exchange he kissed me. We were at a party "slow dancing." Which in teenage terms means wrapping your arms around your partner and turning in a circle at a glacial pace. The kiss was perfect, even better than Molly Ringwald being kissed by Michael Schoeffling at the end of Sixteen Candles. It wasn't just that he wanted to kiss me, it's that he kissed me in front of EVERYONE! Everyone could see that I was worth kissing.

It turns out Mark Holland had a girlfriend back in Evanston. By which I wasn't just crushed, I was doomed: I spent years attracted to unattainable men who lived in far away places (but that's another story). Regardless of all that, when asked about my first kiss, I always smile, sigh wistfully and say "Mark Holland, from Evanston, Illinois."

G.C. Jones, "Go Kiss"

2007-10-29T12:06:00.000-04:00

I was eighteen years old, first semester in college and fresh from my Midwestern, all-girls high school. He was an upper-classman who lived two floors above me and looked at me, silently with large eyes that said more than he could in the hallways and elevators of our Big Ten university residence hall. He called. He called me on my dorm room phone. He was coming down to hang out. Cool, I thought. I wanted to hang out with him more, but was nervous as hell. They didn't teach us these things in high school. Sure, I'd thought about kissing him, but... well, I wasn't going to say anything.

He knocked on my door. We hugged, awkwardly and my stomach was churning. There wasn't much to do, so we decided to play cards - my lame idea. I didn't know Spades yet, so Go Fish it was. He would have done almost anything I said. I know that now. We sat on the carpeted dorm floor and placed bets on the game - his idea.
"If you lose, I get to kiss you"

"I'm not going to lose. I never lose," I boasted. I lost. I lost and threw a fit. Was this really about to happen? I was losing my first kiss to a game of Go Fish. You have got to be kidding me, I thought. Alright. I closed my eyes, sat there and let him do all the work.

It was awful - uncomfortable and slimy. He tried to put his tongue in my mouth and I felt violated by a simple kiss. Violation! He decided to leave. I wasn't mad, just confused. It was too much for one night. I called one of my best friends.

"What are you doing up?!"

"Carla, he kissed me."

"Are you crying?" she said. It was funny to her. It is funny. It
wasn't then.

"It wasn't special." I was waiting for that big bang, the sparks, the
fireworks.

"It takes a while." She was right. I felt better after talking to her. My friends were excited for me. My first kiss! Firsts always make me cry. Still do. But I know it's good for me. It only gets better from there.

Sandra Fowles, "Caught in the Act"

2007-10-21T19:08:00.000-04:00

Ryan was everything I was not: he was rough around the edges, he skipped school, he never did his homework, he shunned school clubs and groups, he smoked cigarettes and pot, and he wore way too much cologne. I was in love. During the summer after our freshman year of high school we finally became an official "couple."

One August night, after a laughter-filled evening with friends, Ryan asked me to walk with him part of his way home. My stomach felt what my heart knew: knots and butterflies churned. Walking down the street, hand in hand, I felt my mouth getting dry, my chest tightening up, the skin of my palms dampening. He stopped in the circle of a streetlamp’s light and turned to me. His body was close to mine - very close. I looked up at him with a nervous smile and he brought his face abruptly near to mine. Before I realized it, our lips pressed together. A second later, they parted and…ouch! My teeth smacked into his - hard. "Great," I thought to myself, "sooo sexy." When we finally pulled away from one another I think we both silently decided to try and ignore the mishaps and opted for salvaging the experience as much as possible. I smiled sweetly, seductively, "Well...goodnight then." He grinned back: "Yeah, goodnight." I watched him walk away and into the night.

As I finally turned to head back, I suddenly heard a rustling sound from a nearby bush. Wait a minute, that wasn't just shaking vegetation. I ran to the leaves and hastily spread them apart: Deann and Jennifer, my best friends, were trying to hold each other up as they shook in uncontrollable laughter. My mouth dropped open in shock: they had seen that whole mess of thing?! At first I could not have felt more embarrassed, my cheeks burning against the cool night air. But then, another thought entered my mind…at least my laughable "perfect first kiss" would prove to be a precious, shared memory between my girls and me...one that would provide us with more and more laughter for years to come.

Justin Tiemeyer

2007-10-14T21:03:00.000-04:00

Kissing and the Humorously Oblivious

After the fact, my mother had recounted a situation she witnessed when she came to visit me at work one time. She remembered walking into the doors of the video store and seeing Christina and I talking, and with the way Christina was standing and the expression on her face, she thought that she was going to witness this girl move over and kiss me. My mother was much more observant of the tell-tale signs of flirtation and crushes than I was.

Christina and I were working an evening shift with our manager Jeremy, and as she prepared to leave she mentioned the fact that it was now dark outside and she was a little frightened to walk to her car alone. Had her female intuition told her of my inclination toward those deeds that seemed honorable and noble or at least somewhat chivalrous?

I was unaware of Christina’s intentions until the very moment she brought her plan to action. I braced myself as she jumped into my arms, wrapped her legs around me and began kissing my mouth passionately. It was dramatic. This is true. But the moment was smudged by some degree due to the fact that I did not know how to kiss this woman back. What is one to do in such a situation?

My mouth remained firmly in the gasp that it had been in when I was first surprised by this woman, but I knew that I could not maintain this forever. "I must express my problem," I thought to myself, "Or else she might find this situation awkward." It was important that I did not ruin this moment, so I kindly explained into her open mouth that I did not know how to kiss.

Of course, she just kept kissing and when in Rome one does as the Romans do. When one is being kissed by a girl on a dark night just outside a video store, one kisses back. After the fact, I realized what a simple deed kissing was. I remember hearing a rumor that if a child is birthed into a swimming pool, it will swim about as if this were the most natural thing a baby can do, as if the baby had been given nine months of swimming lessons prior to birth. It was much the same with kissing and all those acts associated with kissing.

After that, however, it was no longer a question of being able to kiss - such is a given - but now a question of being able to kiss well. Perhaps in ten or fifteen years there will be a blog regarding when you became a good kisser, and perhaps in ten or fifteen years I will have such a story.

Erin Roof, "Tongue Techniques"

2007-10-08T11:34:00.000-04:00

"I don't like tongue."

I wrote this in a letter to Clay - the kind filled with circles instead of dots and lots of loopy handwriting.

I was in 8th grade and still a member of the ever-shrinking group of girls who had yet to get their period, grow breasts and, most importantly, experience their first kiss. There wasn't much I could do about the first two, but I decided that night at the school dance I would orchestrate my first smooch.

"I don't like tongue," I wrote in the letter. I had no idea what a kiss with tongue felt like, but I knew Clay had kissed girls before and I didn’t want him to see I was inexperienced. Maybe I was worried our tongues would get stuck in the braces filling our smiles - smiles so shiny I thought they could be seen from outer space.

The entire note was filled with detailed description and heavy hinting about how the kiss should go down. I passed him the note before 7th period. All I had to do now was wait.

I got ready for the big dance in the bathroom of the public library where my mom worked. It was packed with other girls spreading huge clumps of mint green eye shadow across their lids. I was getting butterflies, but played it cool. I didn't want anyone to know I hadn't kissed yet.

But during the first slow song of the dance, I was so nervous I thought I would puke. Clay wrapped his arms around me and we swayed together, not really sure which one of us was leading. I couldn't bring myself to look at him.

It wasn't until that last R. Kelly song filled the gymnasium that I looked up expectantly. He leaned in toward me and our open lips smashed together. Just one time. I was too nervous for another try.

We hugged goodbye as the lights came back on. Walking toward my mother's car waiting outside, I no longer felt like a child. I was too young to realize that was a horrible feeling.

Anonymous, "Kickin'"

2007-10-01T09:03:00.000-04:00

His breath... was kickin'
I mean really kickin' It was hot messy sloppy
I mean... why would first kiss have to be a tongue... a french
I was haitian He was pakistanian
It was all wrong
from the way his pizza and hooka-fied tongue entered
my mouth
to the way I gagged and ran out of pizza shop
I was disgusted
How unhygienic! WAS THAT HIS CHEWING GUM IN MY MOUTH?!
I threw up on the street corner
composed myself
and went back in to try it again

Zandra Coult ("Zandra Gave Dan Mono")

2007-09-23T20:03:00.000-04:00

I'd been going out with him for about two weeks I think. It was in April of '06. I was in seventh grade, and he was in eighth. We went to go see a movie. My mom dropped me off, and he walked in with two of his friends (who were also in eighth grade). We all had gotten there like 30 minutes before the movies was supposed to start.

I tried to get to know his two other friends. I sat on Dan's left, and his friends on his right. When we were trying to pick a place to sit his friends said to me:

"Do you want us to sit a couple rows away so we don't get in the way?"

I had absolutely NO clue what to say. Dusty told them to shut up.

Dusty and I had discussed kissing before this date at the movies we decided to kiss at the movies, and I knew that it would be his first kiss. But I told him I had already had a first kiss. I hadn't. I regret lying now, but at the time I did it to seem 'cool'
in front of my older boyfriend.

The movie started. We held hands for the first 15 or 20 minutes. Then the friend of his sitting closest to him nudged him.
He let go of my hand. My stomach was doing flip-flops. He put his arm around me and I knew what was going to happen.

I looked over at him, and he looked deep into my eyes. My head was practically on his shoulder. I tilted my face toward his, and he bent down and kissed me. It was an opened mouth kiss so I slipped my tongue into his mouth. He was shocked that this happened. He then pushed his tongue around in my mouth too. I could feel the stares of his friends piercing the two of us.

I pulled away, and he understood. This happened a few times during the course of the movie.

After the date, after the rest of the weekend had passed I went to school. He was there too. (Obviously) When I was walking to a class one of his friends shouted:

"ZANDRA GAVE DAN MONO"

I told them I had no clue what they were talking about... they explained loudly that when I frenched him I gave him mono.
I told them to F**K OFF. Before I knew it the ENTIRE SCHOOL was shouting "MONO" when I walked past any of them.

It sucked. And Dan broke up with me a week after because of the whole thing. But life went on... and I got over it.

Elements of Life, Anonymous

2007-09-16T19:45:00.000-04:00

I was almost 18 and the partying, drinking, and guys had soon clouded my mind.

That night put us all in a zone, losing all common sense...one second I was stepping up to him and asking for a dance and another second I was tangled in his arms, his breath hot on my neck. I've dirty danced before but this time...woah...he'd whisper in my ear phrases like "Just lead my hands" or "Wherever you wanna go." I told him I don't do this and he reassured me that I should do whatever I was comfortable with. An hour passed and I was about to step out the door. "You can't leave me like this" he said, and ran off to my best friend successfully convincing her to stay the night.

My body was aching, my head was spinning and all I needed was some water and a chance to sit down. He followed me to the darkened area of the room. It started off well talking about sports, school and all. All was good until I stopped talking, and his lips had a chance to occupy my neck...I froze. His lips soon captured mine, and stayed still. 'What the hell' i thought and went for it. I pulled away, I always pulled away...never the one to start it up again, just once I had had the nerve to turn his face toward me. It wasn't gentle, it wasn't sweet and it sure as h*ll wasn't dry...haha kinda slobbery...it wasn't at all how I imagined it'd be.

Part of me believes that it meant nothing to the both of us but just an excuse to have some fun. I don't know and probably never will know what it meant for him and to some extent I'm okay with that. It was about a month ago yet it seems like it never happened and looking back at it now, I finaly realise that my actions were nothing but the actions of my curiousity.

R. Light

2007-09-09T20:00:00.000-04:00

(my first kiss) and then some

I didn't date much in high school, and the few times I did no decent girl deigned to kiss me.

In my last semester of high school, when my eyes scanned the horizon for the vast expanse of possible new experience and testosterone took control of my brain, my trigger finger got itchy. I was a product of L.A. and fully aware of the promise of the lurid mid-sixties youth culture spilling over into the streets. I longed for something more than the neat nip-and-tuck of my adolescent life.

Her name was Maida. Maida was 21 years old, a real nice lady who had a beehivehairdo and a killer body squeezed into paisley print pants. Unfortunately for her, she had gotten herself in well, a family way, and had left her family back East to spend some time with her aunt in L. A. She had come west to have her baby and deal with the requirements of putting it up for adoption. By all appearances,
Maida felt constrained in her new surroundings.

Maida's aunt was one of my mother's best friends. One evening my mother and Maida's aunt went out, and Maida and I were left to our own devices as we remained behind lounging at her aunt's home. She already had had her baby, and I have no idea why she hadn't already returned home. I don't imagine I embodied any great fantasy for her, but I wasn't bad looking and I did dress rather spiffy. And probably most important, there I was, sharing the immediacy of that forlorn time and space.

I recall lunging toward Maida (and she for me), saying something about being desperate for physical attention. I'm not sure that much has changed to this day! We had a wonderful passionate kiss, and I groped mightily at Maida's physique. I seem to recall my mother and her aunt returning home, and my hand dropping away quickly as I grabbed Maida's blouse back to its proper position around her waist.

Oh, what a delight while it lasted!

Maida and I saw each other with romantic intent one more time. We took a long drive and we made out, and I fondled her gorgeous breasts for every inch of excitement they were worth.

I always will recall Maida as being a loving and lovely lady, and I couldn't have asked for a better first kiss or a better encounter with an "older" woman.

Annabel Lee Got Nothin On Me, Ms. Kayla L. Lucas

2007-09-03T00:42:00.000-04:00

I was a late bloomer, I guess. The nerdy little lass who kept to herself all the way through middle school. And then, sixteen years old hit me like the worn end of an angry, old man’s walking stick. Breasts, amazing complexion, deep brown hair, and to-die-for hazel eyes. And that's when I put away my glasses, hid my Hemingway, and started using what God had suddenly given me.

I discovered almost immediately that, while boys may not understand Wordsworth, I certainly understood their Longfellow. Boys began to intrigue me far more than Keats. After all, the men I read about were dead, and even though Lord Byron's tales could make any little lady squeal with delight, only live men had the power to take that little lady squeal to an entirely new level. Frost, Poe, Eliot... they all touched my brain with such passion. But none had the ability to touch me, well, there.

And that's when I met Michael. Smart, blonde, blue-eyed. A Californian. And better yet, a poet. Instantly, we connected. He and I became best friends, the Sylvia and Ted of our time. We would sit in my truck for hours, reciting, creating, exploring. Poetry, I mean. Until that one time, the one time I leaned forward and, with all the might a Southern woman-to-be could muster, I laid one on him so hard and explosive, he might have had to adjust his pants.

It was in that moment in which I figured out that you don’t have to give up Shakespeare to give a man the shakes. A pair need only learn how to make poetry with their mouths

Swing and A MIss - B. Eller

2007-08-27T07:57:00.000-04:00

We grew up together. Her father put on my braces, my father was her basketball coach, and of course, her house was just a few down the road from mine. We parted ways and grew apart when she went to the private middle school, but my friends stayed in touch with her friends. We hadn't seen each other in 5 years, and she'd done a lot of growing up between age eleven and age sixteen. She was beautiful, which wasn't surprising, but, the amount of attention she paid me certainly was.

After a few months of hanging out with her friends, I finally worked up the courage to would hang out with her, and only her. 6 hours, 100 miles of driving, 3 stops for bathroom breaks, and a hundred awkward silences later, her car finally pulled up outside my front door. She looked into my eyes smiled, and turned away a little embarrassed.

"What?" I asked sheepishly.
"Nothing…" she replied with a grin.
I leaned in and she leaned in. My mom interrupted.
"You're supposed to call if you're not going to be home for supper"

Thanks mom. Both mom and girl walked me to the front door. When my mom realized that we'd been together all afternoon, it became apparent we were all pretty embarrassed. My mom said goodbye to my "friend" and rushed upstairs to watch out her bedroom window.

We stood in the doorway for what seemed like an hour, not knowing what to say.
"Bye," she said with a smile that is still burned into my memory.
"Yeah," I said, as I started to close the door. "Bye".
She leaned towards me, and I knew I no longer had a choice in the matter. I closed my eyes, leaned forward and puckered up. I landed on her nose.

After six hours of watching her, learning her features and studying her beautiful face, I somehow managed to find myself completely lost while trying to navigate my mouth towards hers. I suppose that's what you deserve for trying to pilot a first kiss with your eyes closed.

She started laughing, I started blushing, and my little brother started teasing.
"Let's try that again" she said. Thank God someone knew what they were doing.
Our lips connected, my brother grew nauseous, and my mother's heart soared from the upstairs window.
"Goodbye" she said, with that smile again.
"Yeah…" I grinned, "Me too."

When the door finally clicked shut I exhaled out for the first time since that morning. After two nervous months, and six awkward hours, she was finally mine… and she stayed mine,
for three whole weeks.

Jordan

2007-08-20T07:51:00.000-04:00

The fact that I was going to turn 15 without having kissed a girl was greatly troubling to me. Almost more troubling than the fact that I wasn't all that attracted to girls to begin with. But let's not get into that yet.

It was towards the end of the school year – April, maybe – and I found myself involved in my umpteenth community theater production. This one was The Secret Garden, and my role wasn't that of the bed-ridden Colin haunted by his mother's ghost. No, instead I was relegated to the wings, dressed in black and moving furniture on and off the stage. I would later remember this time as my "theater fag years," but at the time there was nothing more dignifying than a Letherman clinging tightly to the waistband of my Dickies.

I worked with Bridget, an older woman about to turn 16. I knew her vaguely from school, and it made me uncomfortable to see my two worlds – White Bear High and my work life at the community theater – come crashing together. At school, I was an overweight, acne-prone wallflower. But in the theater, I was king. Already at 14, I had the longest tenure at the theater of any of the other stagehands, and I eagerly bossed around the temporary help, like Bridget.

But as it turns out, she liked me. I couldn't blame her. I was baby-faced. Adorably round. And wielded the aloofness of a boy who didn't seem to notice girls. Bridget wasn't a knockout, but she was confident and persistent, a magical combination that would leave me helpless against her advances. Like me, she lacked the lean, muscular body of the boys on the cross-country team. She had a kind, round face with a bright smile and a boisterous laugh. She was a bit rough around the edges, but as for acting as a co-star in my performance of denial and self-hatred, she was perfect.

A week after opening night, we began dating. I don't recall the specifics of how the arrangement came to be, but I'm sure it involved an awkward conversation and a healthy dose of confusion on my part. And "dating" wasn't exactly Friday nights at Applebees either. It mostly consisted of hanging out together during intermission, holding hands in the tech booth, and allowing her to poke me incessantly. She was more comfortable with boyish games of slap and tickle than I was.

About three weeks into our torrid affair, we still hadn't kissed. I was running out of excuses, and I felt the moment looming like the long ride up the tallest hill on a roller coaster, except with the feeling that at any moment I'd look down and realize I wasn't buckled in.

After one Saturday night performance, I asked my friend Bill for a ride home. And, as fate would have it, Bridget needed a ride as well. The set up was perfect. She and I cuddled in the back seat of Bill's Taurus, driving with the windows down on one of the few nice evenings of a Minnesota springtime. Admittedly, it was romantic, even for a guy that had spent that very morning finding a new hiding place for his gay porn.

We pulled into my driveway and I scrambled to get out of the car. As I slid out the door muttering goodbyes, I felt Bridget's hand pull me back my collar.

"C'mere chicken shit," she huffed.

And the kiss. Nothing fancy. Just soft lips on chapped lips, and the small expanse of trapped air between two tense mouths.

It happened before I had a chance to feign a cough or a sniffle. It happened before I had a chance to claim onion breath. It happened before I had a chance to sputter, "UNCLE! I'matotalfagandyoushouldknowthatbeforeyoukisslipsthatwilloneday-godwilling-suckhardhotcock." It just happened.

And it wasn't bad. In fact, it was nice. Sweet. A little damp. Somewhat arousing. And not even that confusing.

From the front seat, Bill chimed in: "Either someone's eating peanut butter, or you're kissing."

I smiled, said goodnight, and waddled out of the car in hopes the excitement would drain out of my body before I reached the front door.

A month later, Bridget and I broke up. She cheated on me. I wasn't upset. She was upset that I wasn't upset. I didn't blame her. We never made out. I never attempted to feel her up. It would be almost five years before anyone would get my pants off, and the event would be at the hands of a boy named Mohamed. To Bridget, I would become more exciting after coming out than I was as her boyfriend. Go figure.

Back then, I used to torture myself with mind games. I would set rules in my head, such as, "If I turn on the radio and a chick is singing, I'm straight. If it's a guy, I'm gay." I'd flip on the radio in hopes fate would deliver me from what I dreaded so much. Sometimes it did, but soon, the fate-induced affirmation of my queerness became comforting, and I started feeling invigorated when the powers that be delivered a gay verdict.

About a year ago, Bridget found herself in Boston and asked if she could buy me a beer. After spending several years in Dublin, she married an Irishman. They were now living together in St. Paul.

After our third Guinness and several hours of giggling, she asked me if I remembered that first kiss.

"Yeah, of course."

"So, considering everything, how did it feel?"

"Like nothing I had ever felt."

"Huh," she said. "I guess a kiss is a kiss, then."

Katie's Story, 13-years-old

2007-08-13T07:51:00.000-04:00

I grew up like any young girl day dreaming about boys and what it would feel like to be kissed. Studying every romantic film I came across and praying that one day I would have my chance. Low and behold, like a Cinderella story, the moment of truth came as the clock struck midnight on my thirteenth birthday ( Or 9:30 p.m. but go with me, after all I was only in the seventh grade).

I still remember that evening clear as a bell. My parents had come early to pick me up from a Jr. high dance I was attending. The night had been filled with smiles, many "your so lucky" comments, and dancing. Early in the evening I had become glued to a tall, hansom and older boy who I had met, so yes I did feel lucky.

Anxiously, I grew as the night progressed with sweaty palms, a racing heart and the constant breath check. Questions, I had pondered a million times raced through my mind: "Do I move my head? What do I do with my mouth? Do I look cute? Maybe this shirt does not fit right?... AHHHH, maybe he does not even like me."

And then it happened, just like a fairytale. It was a moment of pure bliss, my fears were instantly forgotten. My wish had finally come true, a moment that I had dreamed of for so long. My first kiss was utterly perfect and what better day than a girl's 13th.

Rhonda

2007-08-05T20:51:00.000-04:00

First kiss A

I was 12 and sweet little Hugh was a 11, he was... ahhh sigh..... a skater boy, it was about 8:30 at night and we were sitting on his front porch with the lights out on a hot sweaty night in july, we were making chit chat about secret crushes and he admitted that I was his and that he wanted to kiss me, so we kissed, I did not care that he had a mouth full of braces and he did not care that I had not discovered mousse for my hair, His hands started to roam and he put his hand between my legs and made the comment "do you have a dick" I said "no" .... Side note ...I had started my period a few days before and in 1988, god had not giving the intelligence to man to make maxi pads that were thin and with wings...... I told him that I was on my period and he said ok and continued with his roaming hands and we continued to kiss till 9 pm when I had to go home ..........

Fast forward 5 years First Kiss B

I had joined the church of Jesus Christ of Latter day Saints and I saw Tim at a church dance..... we hung out a little, but I do not think that his parents liked me because I was a convert to the church and the only member in my family.... but you can not help who you like and there was no stoping this crush.... so being the nerd conniseur that I was and Tim being the nerd that he was .... I used the " I need help with my math home work' card and the plan was in motion, we were spending time togather when we could between school and church.... one night after a chruch dance Tim drove me home... knowing that this would keep him out pass his curfew..... and so there we were talking in his car and I finaly told him... ps , by the way... I have a crush on you and really want to kiss you and he said ok... so we got out of the car and continued to talk, then I told him" I am going to kiss you now" and he said "ok" and then it happened, he was taller than me so I was on my tippy toes and it was not the best kiss and I have only 2 words to discribe it .... awkward and misplaced tongue, but WOW, I was high, so we stopped kissing and he gave me a hug and the night ended.... He was going to go to byu right after high school for the summer session before he went on his mission, so the night before he left he came over so I could sign his year book and he could sign my journal..... what amazed me is that he felt the same way that I did but we could not do anything about it because his path was already choosen..... he wrote: thank you for being my first kiss and my first true love... I will think of you often.... we both knew that we would never see each other again.... but that kiss was one that still makes me high to this day, even as I write about it .... I would not pass a sobriety test and should not drive.

fast forward........100 years and many frogs later

I have kissed fools, gay men, woman, married men, married woman and a variety of 20 something boys, and have made out with at least one guy in the elevator at work....some kisses were good , some kisses were bad and some kisses were ..... just to kill time. I am looking forward to my first real kiss as an adult, I am waiting for that one kiss that will surpass Tim's innocence and Hugh's spark, I am waiting for that first kiss that has only been seen on t.v.... Ironicly if you will, the way that Drew Berrymore's first kiss was at the end of her movie... Never been kissed.

Y. Lejand, The Coughdrop Kiss

2007-07-30T00:29:00.001-04:00

The blinds were drawn across the library windows, but there wasn't much to see on such a gunmetal-gray, cloudy day. There was a certain damp mustiness that rose from the shelves of books. It was a kind of typical dustiness, of mothballs and yellowed pages and outdated magazines, and it lay over the entirety of the library like a fog that not even the misplaced sleek modern furniture from the defunct renovation could disguise.

Naturally on these days visitors were infrequent, but at 6:00 AM in the morning, a rare few actually knew the library was open at such an early time. At a table that was a little island among other little table-islands, they sat across from each other. Their postures were colored gray and listless. They were vaguely leaning forward in a sleepy stupor. Their faces were drawn and sallow. Their shoulders were slack. Their heads were in their arms. One of the two emitted a faint cough.

"God, it sucks to be sick."

"Yeah, tell me about it."

They limply rifled through their books. He lifted his chemistry book out of the way. She shuffled her note cards into order. He opened his copy of Camus' The Stranger, then he sighed and closed it again. She pulled her Spanish book towards her, turned to page 156, sighed and pushed it to the side, and dropped her head onto the cool desk.

"Good idea," he observed, and he promptly laid his head down on the desk as well. As he did so, she could catch the faint whiff of his breath. It was a warm smell, not at all organic or putrid with breakfast or chapped saliva from last night's sleep. She briefly closed her eyes took another quick but cautious breath. But, rather, she surmised, it was minty with a hint of honey and… a missing smell, but her eyes fluttered gently as she also discerned, threading through the other odors, the damp scent of saliva and she was intrigued.

They sat that way, across from each other, their heads down on the cool surface of the desk. She could feel the faint wisp of his exhale wafting across the desktop as if it were slowly tracing the fake whorls and knots of the fake wood grains patterned into the plastic. Each breath created an ephemeral cloud of condensation on the artificial wending woodwork, a map that lead to her, warm on her face, and fascinating to her nostrils.

She breathed out, sending her own breath like a telegram, but de repente (as page 156 of her Spanish book flashed nonsensically through her mind) something gurgled in her throat as she tried to exhale. Her eyes shot wide open. She sat up so suddenly that she jostled the desk and let out a whooping, cacophonous cough. It was the kind of cough that was meant to clear the throat of phlegm, mucus, and other gooey debris, and it clacked into the back of her mouth and onto the roof of her mouth in a gummy clatter, which she promptly swallowed.

He was already sitting up.

She allowed herself a sheepish gaze and politely cleared her throat with a small ahem. "That was gross," she said.

He had no comment. "You want a cough drop?" he asked, already reaching into his backpack.

She was already unwrapping her own. "That's okay." She could feel it quell her cough and soothe her throat, but it was the medicated taste that was marketed as "cherry-flavored."

Once more she tried to focus on page 156. The verbs were swimming in front of her eyes. Tengo la tos. No, it's el tos. No, it's la tos. The fluorescent lights made the page burn too bright. Everything around her looked dull. She decided to put her head back onto the desk. He was already head down in the book, sleeping. His lips fluttered as he breathed out. From this low angle, the words in the book appeared slanted. Y de repente los dos… But she could feel the tugging sensation at her eyelids.

I was… She stopped when he stopped. Just wondering… She had been dreaming about bees and koalas chewing doublemint gum and stopped. What… The warm sensation of his breath on her face had ceased and she indistinctly wondered why. Flavor… She heard a shuffle of clothing and opened her eyes. Then she closed them again.

The taste, it was laced with honey and mint, and ah--she licked his lips meditatively--the missing scent, the missing flavor… she contemplated as they allowed their tongues, sweetly flavored by the slick, sweetened, medicated lozenges, to collide… the missing scent, the missing flavor…

"Thanks for the extra cough drop."

"Same here. See you in class then."

She unwrapped the cough drop he had given her and smoothed out the wrapper. She read the ingredients: mint, honey, and…eucalyptus.

18-Year-Old First Kiss, Leila Hernandez

2007-07-22T22:23:00.000-04:00

I was 18 years old and a senior in high school, and I still hadn't experienced my first kiss. I went on Spring Break with a group of girlfriends to South Padre Island, Texas (only a 90-minute drive from where we lived), where we had rented a condo right on the beach.

I met Mark at Carlos 'n Charlie's. He liked my hat. He had beautiful blue eyes. We danced, we had a few drinks, and we went back to the condo with my friends.

I was so nervous. I knew how to act with guy friends, but I didn't know how to act with cute boys who actually showed interest in me (eight years later, and still don't). We sat on the porch and awkwardly talked about music and movies. I learned that Mark was 21 (an older man, I was so proud of myself) and from San Francisco. But I really fell for him when he quoted a line from Shakespeare's "Henry V."

We decided to take a walk down the beach. It was 3:00am by this time and the sky was lit with stars. Mark asked if he could hold my hand. We walked a little further, and then stopped. Mark stood in front of me, held both my hands, and asked if he could kiss me. I said, "Yeah."

His breath was a mixture of Big Red chewing gum and Bud Lite. It was heavenly. To this day, it was still the most gentle kiss I've ever experienced. We laid in the sand and kissed some more. We kissed for a long time. I didn't want it to end. But it did.

We walked back the condo, and as we kissed and cuddled on the couch, I started to fall asleep. Mark said he’d let me go to sleep, and he left.

I went back to Carlos ‘n Charlie’s the next night to look for Mark. I never saw him again, but I’m not sad. He gave me the perfect first kiss and the perfect memory. If you’re reading this Mark, thank you.

thechameleon

2007-07-15T21:16:00.000-04:00

In Junior High, I was a definite burn out. But in High School I didn't really have a group that I fit in with. I wasn't a jock really, I wasn't a thespian, I wasn't a geek - but I kind of touched all those groups. So, in my quest to kind of find out where I belonged I ended up, well, I ended up playing Dungeons and Dragons.

Ok. So I'm at this kid's house, and he's really into it, you know. He acts out all the moves and does all the accents and everything. So this kid's sister showed some interest in me. Visably. Because, I guess, I'm the one cool kid at her brother's D&D game. Or so I thought. And so the game is going on and, somehow, I don't really remember how it happened. But the game is going on in the basement and we end up meeting in the stairway.

And we kiss. With the sounds of the game going on in the background, you know. The screams and murder of wizards and the rolling of multi-sided dice, we're kissing. And I remember that my mom came to pick me up after. And that Toto song is playing, "I bless the rains down in Africa..." and it's such an emotional thing you know because the song is playing and I just kissed this girl for the first time. And that was it. So that was my first kiss.

Amy, Amy, Jack & Me (And Mary-Francis Too)

2007-07-08T23:22:00.000-04:00

It was the eighth grade. I had just moved to Maine with my mother and stepfather to escape what could generously be called one of the most awful middle school experiences in human history. I was a strange lad with a bad temper and way too many demons for someone my age. Maine would be a fresh start.

Amy was one of the first people I met when I started school. She was not, however, my first kiss. I never kissed her at all, despite desperately wanting to. She and I were the same age, but she was vastly more experienced. I had never used my tongue for much more than speaking, yet she was sexually active. I mean, she went all the way! She slept with several boys who were older and more mature than I – some as ancient as 16. Some people might have judged her and called her a slut, but I never did. I was blown away by her openness. I wanted her, and she knew it. I became her willing sidekick. If I couldn’t have her, at least I could be near her. At least I could hear the war stories and embellish them in my mind, replacing the anonymous boys with me.

Amy had a friend, or a cousin or something, from some far away place… Idaho? I can’t remember. Her name was Mary-Francis, and she was going to be in town for the weekend. Amy wanted to hook us up because Mary-Francis was inexperienced and I, well, I had been lying to Amy all along about my exploits. After all, I had just moved to Maine and no one had any proof that I was virgin, so I denied it vehemently. I pretended I was the epitome of manliness back in Massachusetts. Certainly not a troubled, awkward, weirdo that got beat up all the time. That was definitely not me anymore.

So, one warm night – I can’t remember the season – I trekked over to Amy’s to meet up with Mary-Francis and another one of our friends named Amy. (Seems like every girl I knew in Maine was named either Amy, Jen or Sarah.) Amy number two had brought Jack Daniels. All of us took pulls and pretended it tasted good. It was fucking terrible though. The whole experience was excruciating for me. I knew I was expected to make a move on this stranger; this innocent youngster with new breasts and a bob haircut. I took another pull. My heart sank.

Finally we walked off together at her suggestion. She had to have seen through my ridiculous façade. We giggled like idiots and blushed and stared at each others’ shoes. I kept debating with myself the same way I might in the line of a scary amusement park ride. “Just do it you chicken shit!” I would think with self-loathing, “You’re such an asshole. You can probably get to second base!” Then she threw her arms over my shoulders and smiled. She followed my eyes as they fell toward the ground, and she followed them back up again. She was going to make me do this.

So I did. I put my open mouth around hers and tentatively inserted my tongue. We wiggled around nervously for a few seconds, and I broke away. “Was that it?” she inquired innocently. She truly didn’t know what had just happened. “That’s it” I replied, trying to remember that I was a Don Juan from another state. I never got to take her shirt off, but it’s probably better that way. I wouldn’t have had the slightest idea what to do.

Lou Hunny

2007-07-01T19:34:00.000-04:00

I was very shy kid and kept my nose in books because of it. At the time it was easier for me to relate to textbooks than people and quietly hid in libraries because of it. I knew very little about the opposite sex and logically deduced that if I read enough stories about romance I would be an expert when I had my first kiss with a boy.

I was a late bloomer and didn’t experience that until I was a sophomore in high school. My friend Kandy was having a sleep over so she invited two of her friends and I to her house. My parents knew her parents so the legitimacy of the request was not questioned. What my parents didn’t know was that her parents were not going to be home for the weekend and we’d have the house all to ourselves. Kandy’s friend Missy invited her boyfriend Scott and three of his friends over. I had guy friends but not close ones, let alone converse with boys I never met before. We raided her parents’ alcohol cabinet and we started to drink beer and started talking. As the night progressed we started to move into different areas of the house.

My friend Kandy paired up with Paul in the backyard, my friend Donna paired up with Mike in the kitchen and I was paired up with Steve in the living room. He was a kind, gentle and soft-spoken guy who made small talk with me while trying to put his arm around me. I could smell beer on his breath and an hour before he had smoked a few cigarettes with Paul. Four hours had gone by and to sober up I was nursing a coke and looked down to see what time it was. When I looked up and smiled at Steve he bent down to kiss me.

It was only a millisecond in time, but that moment will always stay ingrained in my brain. I said to myself, “This is it! I’m finally going to have my first kiss!” I had read my mother’s Harlequin’s Novels and randomly picked up romance novels at the local library. The man takes the woman in his arms, turns her head and BAM! It would be an earth shaking, head spinning, fire works explosion of a moment. When his lips touched mine and his tongue explored my mouth all I could taste was cigarettes! It was like kissing an ashtray and a wet one at that! I pulled away and weakly smiled at Steve. He kissed me again only to now taste cigarettes and a hint of beer left in his mouth. Needless to say I was disappointed. I wondered why I didn’t feel the earth move nor felt or heard fireworks bursting in my head.

I now can laugh at the experience, but at the time I had wondered if the romance novels lied to me about kissing let alone “the first” kiss. Needless to say, I’ve had many kisses since then from boys and it has gotten better over the years. My first kiss may not have been ideal but it certainly made for a great laugh and a comical moment from my youth.

Rachel and the Firefighter's Daughter

2007-06-25T08:49:00.000-04:00

She and I had been friends since kindergarten. We used to have sleep overs at least one Saturday a month and every time my mom took my family on some crazy vacation, I picked something up for her from every weird place we drove through or wound up in.

I don't remember when I started to like her, or the first time we kissed. I know we were in the 4th grade, in her basement. Her dad was a fireman and he had all sorts of little pictures and mugs and glasses and things with dalmatians on them all on shelves and on top of a huge bar they had downstairs. We started out kissing closed
lipped, and proceeded over time to get more adventurous until eventually we were making out every time I came over.

It went on for a few months at least, but I didn't see her much over the summer so when school started up again in September, our friendship was a little awkward. She never wanted to me stay over anymore, or go to the movies or anything. She started hanging around the girls at school who wore eyeshadow (or as much eyeshadow as the nuns would let them get away with) and rolled the waistbands of their skirts up to
show their knees. Her birthday was in February (the 10th I believe) and even though I don't think she wanted me to come to her party, her mom invited me. I went.

All the cool kids from school were there. They played really awful pop music and danced and I felt kind of like an alien. I was awkward and taller than even the boys, and I wore my brothers old jeans while the other girls had trendy jeans on and lipstick. After we had pizza and cake, everyone sat down to play truth or dare. I was seriously uncomfortable before, this only made it a million times worse. She
was dared to kiss Joe, and she did it. Allison was dared to kiss Craig, and they did it. Then I was dared to kiss Brad and he protested. I scoffed and said I didn't want to kiss him, either, but I wasn't going to be a pussy about it.

I leaned in to peck his cheek and he pulled away, so I told him to fuck off and I went upstairs to call my dad. She came up after me and said she was sorry and I told her to fuck off, too, in front of her mom. I told her she didn't have to invite me to her party or pretend to be my friend between classes, and that I didn't care anymore. We got along okay in passing after that, but we were never friends again. I went through the rest of my time at St. V's getting made fun of and called an ugly dyke by her friends, but I always kept her secret and I will always think of her every single time I see a dalmatian.

She sucks.

Mary H., 6th grade

2007-06-18T10:12:00.000-04:00

I was a flirty sixth grader with red hair and freckles. He was the strong silent type sure to sport tattoos and a pierced nipple later in life. He had brunette hair and skin a light brown color like a 70's leather thrift shop jacket. He was a white boy, but a tan and rebellious white boy, which hinted at an exoticism I would chase later in life.

We became boyfriend and girlfriend over a game of dodge ball. He protected me from the mean girls that slammed me silly with the red rubber ball, and I figured I owed him. We started walking hand in hand during recess rather than play team sports, which I sucked at and turns out, he did too. I felt naughty during our daily walks, as the other kids teased us by making smoochy noises. When one day he led me toward the metal backstop at the far end of the baseball field, I felt all pukey and excited at the same time, like I'd just eaten too much cake frosting.

There was a cluster of semi-dying bushes there with a round parting of branches forming a natural fort. There was no chitchat between us during our approach, but then we never talked. Our relationship was built on social discomfort. When I went to sit down, my dress lifted up and my underwear made direct contact with the dirt. As I leaned forward to wipe off my smudgy behind, I felt his lips on my lips, soft and weird. First there was a quick peck followed by a lengthy closed-lipped kiss. I breathed through my nose. I didn't close my eyes and instead looked though the bushes at the students gathered to spy on us. Any latent leanings toward exhibitionism were squashed at this early point, as my face burned red.

In high school, he dated a cheerleader and I was a drama geek who only kissed college boys. He ignored me, I ignored him. But his skin retained that soft, brown color, while my freckles faded away.

Joanna Lord

2007-06-11T10:24:00.000-04:00

My first kiss.
Over a decade ago.
It felt like yesterday.

He was my first boyfriend, my first phone call, my first dance.
He was beautiful, darker skin, shaggy hair, snowboarder style.

I was petite, innocent, trying to be older than I was.
I was nervous, anxious, “in love” with this boy.

We were at the movies, left section, up the middle, a few seats in.
We were holding hands, touching each other softly, shaking.

The movie ended. I didn’t stand up. He leaned over.
Soft, warm, real. His lips kissed me with his hand upon my left cheek.

Imagine a boy with potential, with ambition, with dreams.
Imagine me in awe of his adventurous nature.

In the years to follow our first kiss we had many other firsts’.
We touched, laughed, skipped school, chased dreams—together.

He died 6 years ago. My first boyfriend, my first phone call, my first dance.
My first kiss. I still think of that kiss. I have found no kiss to match that moment.

A moment where a boy made a woman out of a girl.
A moment where I gave my innocence to a worthy man…

MyJason John.
Over a decade ago.
It felt like yesterday.

Billy B.

2007-06-04T10:26:00.000-04:00

She was a freshman. I was a sophomore. The football team and title of class president definitely helped expose my friendly nature. That was also the year I began to study the process of becoming a DJ. I had acquired equipment and began playing at parties. One night after a football game, we all went to a party near the high school where I ran into Jenny for the first time in months. I had always crushed on her even in middle school, and now, with my adolescent status, I thought I had a better shot. I immediately approached her and we began talking. By the end of the night, we were alone on the couch catching up on everything. We went to Denny’s where we pursued the conversation even further and I totally got lost in her eyes and just soaked her all in.

She mentioned her fears as a freshman, and also brought up her upcoming birthday. I pledged myself as her valiant knight and promised to throw her the b-day bash of a lifetime. She laughed at the thought, and thought me silly until I came to school later that Monday with flyers in hand for her party.

Flash forward to the party – we had talked to her parents who let us use her ranch. We had turntables setup, food, "refreshments"...the vibe was set. Later that night, the ranch was filled with hundreds of people. Even guys from the varsity team came down to lend their partying expertise. Suffice it to say, the freshman princess became an overnight sensation, and her fear of being unnoticed was instantly banished. She grabbed away from my turntables later that night and took me to street outside. She was teary eyed. I hugged her and asked her what’s wrong. All she could mumble was thanks. For the party, the attention, for simply caring that much. I smiled, and before I could hug her, she leaned up and kissed me. There was no spin the bottle. There was no dare. There was no elementary element behind it. Just two people who care. I kissed her back hard and laughed as I grabbed her hand to take her back into the party. I kissed her goodbye again later that night, and dreamt of many more kisses to come.

Roger, 12

2007-05-28T15:07:00.000-04:00

It was movie night at Camp Billings, an overnight camp on Lake Fairlee, Vermont. The whole camp was watching Hoosiers on the tennis courts. I was 12 or 13. I was told there was a girl named Megan that liked me. Her friends brought her over to me and my friends, we didn't say much to each other. I couldn't see her face, but we kissed at the cheesy ending of the movie. Her nickname was "Ram Screw", but only because it rhymed with her last name, not because of any barn yard encounters. I asked her if I was good at kissing, she shrugged. I've gotten better since then, I think. We continued to make out together at summer camp until the next summer when she decided to make out with my best friend, Kyle. Kyle and I won a regatta together and I kissed a girl named Amy. Amy didn't have any weird nicknames.

Catherine Anne Hayes, The Tree

2007-05-21T09:57:00.000-04:00

The tree
a memory

I love trees...
Their calm... their strength...their stories.
I love to lie under a tree and I remember once going deep inside a tree
to hide during a game of hide go seek.
I must have been in my early teens...
and all of the sudden I was not alone in that tree.
One of the guys that was the son of my mother's friend...
he was about 18 I think...takes my chin in his fingers and
lifts up my face to him....I could not make out his
face because, even though we were in that tree, patches
of sunlight could make their way inside.
They haloed his head and darkened his face.
He bent down and kissed me...
gently...fully.
As he pulled away my lower lip was caught between his
as if he did not want to break away from me.
I remember he tasted like cold coca cola.
He then let out his breath and said "Beautiful...grow up fast"
and disappeared out of the tree.
I tried to follow him out but it was like he vanished.
I never saw him again.
He was killed in a boat accident down in Florida where his family spent the winter.
I never forgot that kiss.
Funny...I don't even remember his name but sometimes when I drink a
cold coca cola and I lick my lips with my cold tongue he comes to mind.
He was the first to kiss me like a woman.
The first to make me feel womanly...beautiful.

First Kiss Quote

2007-05-14T16:11:00.000-04:00

“We are all mortal until the first kiss and the second glass of wine.”
-Eduardo Galeano

Ashley

2007-04-30T10:11:00.000-04:00

my first kiss happened on thusday and i had been going out with this guy for a couple weeks and i met him because of my friend. so everyday me him and 2 of my friends walk home together because we all live kind of close. my bestfriend lives 5 houses up from me, and he and my other friend live a couple streets away. and so he's the only guy that walks with us but he doesnt care, but today we there was alot more people walking with us because it was my bestfriends b-day.

so we were going to her house and she had a water balloon fight on the street cuz not many cars drive by and the like. we were all running around laughing and then her aunty brought out the water hose. and i didnt really wanna throw balloons anymore, so i went and grabbed the other hose and he was just sitting on the sidewalk.

and he wasnt even wet and i was soaked so i grabbed the hose and i walked up behind him and put my thumb over the opening and sprayed him and laughed as he tried to run away and block the water with his hands. but he got soaked anyway.

and i stopped and he laughed as he tried to ring out his shirt and i let him come a little closer and i sprayed him with the water again and i said "sorry" half laughing. and this time i just dropped the hose and ran, and he chased after me and caught me from behind and spun me around and grabbed my hand and slipped my fingers between his and still laughing he leaned down and was about to kiss me before we realized that everybody was staring at us and laughing.

and i blushed and let go of his hands and then like we were hanging out all of us and then after mostly everybody left jus my best friend me, him and my other friend (the one that introduced us) were talking and then like they were all walking me home because i had to be home by 6 cuz i was supposed 2 be grounded but my mom let me stay out for one day as long i was home by 6 and like 5 minutes to 6 and we were all walking and he was holding my hand.

and then we were a couple houses away from my house and he stopped and i turned around and he pulled me towards him and just kissed me and it was a french and it was kind of funny because we were both still soaking wet because of the water fight and then we had a food fight after so all of us had like frosting and ice cream and whipped cream in our hair and clothes.

Zoe, Sophomore

2007-04-23T10:31:00.000-04:00

Yet another story of the numero uno.

I am Zoe and my first kiss was during my sophomore year in high school. It seems like I have had a crush on my best friend-boy (not boyfriend) Adam for forever. We became friends in seventh grade and have been friends since. We had our times when we didn’t see each other that often, but when we did see each other, everything was back to normal. I first realized that I liked him when he asked me to be his wife in eighth grade, as a joke. I accepted and it has been an inside joke ever since. Unfortunately during sophomore year we didn’t have any classes together. I thought our friendship would end. One day after school I had to make up a Biology lab. I had missed dissecting a worm. So I walked in my Biology classroom after school and sitting there was Adam. My teacher said that we would be dissecting the worm together. So I sat down next to him and we were both excited and dissected the worm and talked about everything. So when we were done we went outside and he offered me a ride home so of course I said yes. On the way we talked even more about “the old days” and he confessed that he had liked me, so I finally go the courage to tell him that I liked him too. We parked outside of my house and sat there for a minute, and then he looked at me and asked, “Umm... can I kiss you?” I said, “Yes.” So he leaned in and his lips grazed mine and so smoothly, he pulled away and looked into my eyes and said “I finally get to kiss my wife after almost 2 and a half years of marriage.” Then he leaned in again and kissed me a little more aggressively. We are still together to this day and going strong. I don't know if this is it, most likely not, but I will never forget him... ever.

Emily, In The Rain

2007-04-16T09:59:00.000-04:00

He had actually been mean to me on several occasions before. I didn't care because he knew what to do to make me happy.

One summer, after he had ripped my heart out, we drove to his elementary school park. They had all kinds of plants and flowers there, and he knew EVERYTHING about them. He worked his charm on me, but the night was coming to a close. He held my hand as we walked to the car, and we took our time saying goodbye. The clouds rolled in, and all we could do was look in each other's eyes. I didn't want to fall for him and be hurt again. It started raining and he kissed me. He was so gentle and didn't do anything I didn't want. The rain fell harder and harder and our kisses become more passionate. We didn't stay together after THAT kiss, but things eventually worked out for us.

To this day, I still think of him when it rains like it did that night. Miss you, Chris.

Emily C., from Ovilla, TX

2007-04-09T11:14:00.000-04:00

I liked you from the moment I met you, which was quite some time ago, when we were full of imagination and childishness. I knew it when I played Legos with you instead of playing Pretty Pretty Princess with the other first grade girls. Then you left.

You resurfaced again in fourth grade at my sister’s funeral. I never did thank you for coming. Thank you.

I had little contact with you until my sophomore year of high school. I asked you to the choir banquet, as a favor. You said, "Yes, of course." We talked some and laughed some and ate some, and then you took me home. I kissed your cheek. I'm not sure if you noticed.

I invited you to my eighteenth birthday party. You came, and flirted with my friends. I wish you had flirted with me. I did not speak to you afterwards for over a year.

I saw you last Christmas at church. We talked for a while, and then you left. I had thought that was the end of it. Then you called to hang out. You remembered what kind of music I liked and had it playing in the car. We talked for six hours.

We went back to our respective schools. You called every week. It made me happy to talk with you for hours.

You comforted me during spring break. We watched a movie late into the night. You leapt on to the couch; our faces grew closer and closer. Then I did what I had wanted to do since the first grade. I kissed you. You were wearing your cowboy hat and my head bumped the brim, almost knocking it off your head. You kissed me back.

It wasn't my first kiss, but you were the first person I wanted to kiss. I want you to be my last kiss. I don't want to kiss anyone else. Just you, forever.

Sean, St. Paul

2007-04-01T15:26:00.000-04:00

We walked the same three blocks every afternoon, at first just side by side and talking excitedly, nervously, getting to know each other, but eventually holding hands and not saying a word. At the end of those three blocks, she'd turn right and walk up the hill to her house, while I'd continue straight to my own home. Before she'd turn to leave me for the afternoon, she'd stop to look up at me with those amazing dark eyes, she'd smile that wicked little grin, maybe give a quick squeeze of the hand and then she'd be gone. As far as eighth-grade romance went, what we shared was nearly perfect.

Except for the kiss. I knew that I was suppose to want to kiss her, and I knew that she was suppose to want to kiss me too, but it seemed like we were getting along pretty well with this walking home, holding hands business. Besides, I really wasn't too sure of the mechanics involved, and she had just gotten her braces tightened. Did I dare try to slip my tongue in with all that new, potentially sharp metal? How does one go about slipping one's tongue into another's mouth anyway? Oh Christ, what about bad breath? I lay awake many a night the fall of eighth grade pondering such questions.

In the end, she took the lead, as I've come to find that ladies tend to do when guys hesitate too long, especially when it's something that both sides are eagerly anticipating. When she squeezed my hand before saying goodbye, she held on this time. With some sort of judo maneuver, she swung my body around, and wrapped me tightly with both arms. Stepping on my left foot to gain leverage, she came at me with eyes half closed and mouth slightly parted. I was trapped. And so I leaned in with my own slightly parted mouth, though eyes wide open as I was horrified at the thought of missing her mouth. Contact. Cue the butterflies and lighting bursts and… cinnamon gum? I should have thought of that.

A.L.T., "real" kiss

2007-03-26T10:06:00.000-04:00

I have kissed a lot of boys. I am 19 years old and it is a running joke among my group of friends that I have already kissed more than 60 different boys. Yes, I am a make-out slut.

My first kiss happened when I was in sixth grade, on a porch-swing in my aunt’s backyard, but it wasn’t memorable. Instead I am going to tell you about the kiss that changed my life.

I had been in love with A. since I started high school. He was my best friend and I was sure he did not want to be anything more.

The summer before senior year, I was staying at my beach house when I received an unexpected phone call from A. He wanted me to go to a party with him that night. When I told him where I was, he retracted the invitation. The next night I was going to be alone at the house so I called him that afternoon and begged him to hang out with me at the beach. He agreed and picked me up later that night. We got dinner and after we went to the beach, sat in the lifeguard chair, and stared out into the ocean.

It was very romantic, but I still didn’t think he thought of me that way. Then his behavior started to change. It was a little cold so he sat with his arm around me. As we walked back to the car he held my hand. I had butterflies in my stomach and was feeling a way I never had before, and have not felt since.

When we finally got back to my house, he turned off the car and looked into my eyes. I became a little uncomfortable and started awkward conversation. I then realized my younger brother was hiding around the corner of the house to ruin my “date.” I yelled at him and told him to go inside. I turned to apologize to A. and all he said was, “He almost ruined the grand finale.” Then he kissed me. It was not intense (that was saved for the next time), but soft and sweet. It was everything I had dreamt my first kiss with the one boy I had always loved would be.

Our relationship did not last long, but even now, as I continue to kiss more boys than I should, I always remember how I felt when I kissed A. for the first time and hope that someday I will be able to feel that excitement for someone else.

Melissa, Minneapolis

2007-03-18T18:46:00.000-04:00

Here is my story of a first kiss.

We were both from small towns in Wisconsin. I met him the summer before my senior year in high school on the 4th of July. We watched the fireworks and stayed up long past midnight talking and holding hands. We were both shy, but exchanged phone numbers and talked quite a bit before going on a first date. As is typical, we went to a movie, and afterwards sat in his car. Not knowing anything about kisses, I just assumed that the guy had to kiss you after the date, so I waited and waited. He wasn't making a move and I really wanted to kiss him, so I blurted out, "Are you going to kiss me?" He lunged; it was wet, sloppy, and lots of tongue. I knew it wasn't a good kiss, in fact, it was pretty bad. He later told me it was his first kiss, too, and that made it more special than any kiss could be.

Cheryl

2007-03-12T19:46:00.000-04:00

Kissing The Ugly Toad

My first kiss wasn't happening, and wasn't happening, and just wasn't happening! How could I go into High School next year without having mastered this Junior High School rite of passage? Everyone else had been kissed, but not me. I just wanted to get it over with. To get the deed done. And all that teenage girl kissing my hand and kissing the mirror just wasn't cutting it.

So, I picked the fattest and ugliest boy I knew - Gilbert - even his name was fat and ugly - someone who would never say no to me - and decided to get the deed done. He was in my neighborhood, on my school bus, and in my church youth group, so at least there was a possibility of arranging an encounter with him. After one youth group event, I used all my Junior High School feminine wiles and lured him downstairs into the basement. And wonders of wonders, I somehow enticed him into a kiss. It was dreadful, of course, but it was over with, and that's all that mattered. And now I could go off to High School. I had been initiated into the club!

Ming, 13 years old

2007-03-05T09:56:00.000-05:00

I was thirteen and he was the quarter back of the junior varsity football team. It happened to be game day, so as most Midwestern schools are - spirit was a necessity. He had given me his jersey the day before and I've been traipsing about all day in it. Of course along the way getting looks and questions about what was going on between us, but most of the time I just smiled and said I was just supporting his team.

I remember it was a very lovely fall evening, I met him in the bleachers after his game to watch the varsity team play. We were hanging out and flirting when one of his friends came up to join us. I guess he was curious about what was going on so he asked us straight up if we were going steady and at that moment in time, we never really talked about things, but Mike answered with a "yeah." I was a little shocked and a bit giddy when I heard that, then his friend asks us if we've kissed. I've been so taken a back at how fast things were going that I felt myself looking at Mike as he answered "yes!"

Of course we had not ventured down that path but I couldn't exactly betray him and tell his friend the truth after he just said we were going steady. Literally a few minutes after he answered his friend actually asked us to show him and just as fast as he asked Mike turns towards to me... and well, it happened. It was a bit more forceful and a lot less romantic than what I had imagined my first kiss to be, but at that moment it didn't matter because it was Mike, and Mike = butterflies.

Me and T.

2007-02-26T10:10:00.000-05:00

Me and T. are upstairs, leg-pretezled, watching "Dark Side of the Oz," where I'd heard Pink Floyd's "Dark Side of the Moon" supposedly synced up with "The Wizard of Oz." I'm sixteen, and T's eighteen, and just when Judy Garland falls off the fence and the crashes and synths of "On the Run" kick in, I glance over and see T is applying chapstick to herself after sighing and repeating ad nauseum how boring the whole thing was. Odd, I think. This isn't dry lips weather.

I take another look at the chapstick, and hold up. It's super glue. So as she's leaning towards me, I'm diving out of the way, but her lips manage to hit the back collar of my shirt, and I try to pull away, but it's too late. The shirt's stuck to her mouth. I wiggle out, put on another shirt, and offer to get her hot water, but she refuses, is running out the door, despite my pleas, jumps into her car, and drives home.

Corey Podell, 15

2007-02-19T10:02:00.000-05:00

I was almost sixteen years old. I had never been kissed and thought it if didn't happen before my sixteenth birthday I was sure to be a sad lonely spinster forever.

I visitied my best friend in Connecticut for a long weekend. She showed her friend, who was seventeen, my school picture before I arrived. He told her I was pretty. He was cute, and he was in a band. Which made him cuter.

We all went, his friends and mine, to the Romeo and Juliet re-make starring Leo DiCaprio. He tried to hold my hand during the part where they kissed for the first time, and I brushed it away. I was scared.

The next night he was grounded and had to stay in. We found someone with a license to drive us across town. He came outside in the cold December Connecticut air in pajamas. My friends drove away, giggling. We sat on the curb. He said "what would you do if I kissed you right now?" And then he did. And we did. And we did. And we did. And then my friends pulled back up.

Its been a decade since that kiss, and no one has ever been as smooth as that seventeen year old boy in a band.

Cari

2007-02-12T09:59:00.000-05:00

"You want me to what?"
I had definitely done it this time. This time I had gone too far with Ari.
"You heard me." I answered in a low voice. "I want you to kiss me."

I had promised our neighbor that I would watch her cats and bring in her mail while she and her husband were away. Ari had walked me home after school and had accompanied me to Mrs. Ray's house. The stage was set: an empty house, me and Ari: it couldn't get better than this.

"You're nuts. We're friends remember?" he uttered in disbelief.
"Yes, I know."
"Well, friends don't kiss. Come on, finish feeding those things so we can get out of here."
"Friends help each other don't they?" I egged on. No response I was losing him. "Look, Ari. I'm in my first year of high school now and probably the only girl who has never been kissed. The girls at school talk about their boyfriends and things they do together and I can't take part in any of that because I have zero clue as to what they're talking about."

"Your time will come. Girls who talk about what they do are probably bragging. Besides, your first kiss should be special, and it should be someone really special. Let's go, huh? I've got stuff I need to do."
"Ari you don't understand."
"God, you're not going to give up on this are you?"
"What's the matter Ari, am I that unattractive?"
"No, of course not." He was nervous. I had made him nervous. "That's not it. You're fine." He rambled. "It's just that…"
"What? It's just that what? I'm only asking for a kiss. Nothing more."
"You're putting me in a really bad spot here, you know? You're my best friend's sister for God's sake."

"I know, I'm sorry, but you're the only one I can turn to." I had loved Ari from the moment I'd laid eyes on him four years ago. He was my brother's best friend and the only guy I looked up to. It was clear that I was taking a huge risk as he stood in front of me, looking confused. I thought at any moment he would storm out and never speak to me again. We were silent for what seemed an eternity.

"Come here." He finally said. I walked over to him not sure of what he was going to do. He took my hand and led me to Mr. and Mrs. Ray's olive green couch. "Sit down." Sensing a speech would follow, I sat down slowly. "Now close your eyes."

My stomach muscles began to tighten as I realized what was about to actually happen, nevertheless, I followed his instructions to the letter and sat perfectly still, eyes closed. I could feel his hands on my chin caressing my face. The next thing I felt were his warm luscious lips on mine pressing down ever so gently. His hand still on my chin, he pulled back and I opened my eyes to find his emerald greens gleaming down on me.
"How was that?" he asked. I was speechless. I was motionless and speechless. "Well?" As he stood up I found the strength to grab his hand. "What?" he asked.
"Thanks, Ari." I finally managed. He took my other hand and helped me up.
"Hey, what are friends for, right? Come on, let's go, I've got to get home and help my dad."

Aries

2007-02-12T09:58:00.000-05:00

She told me, "I like you," after her Halloween party, once all our other friends had left.

"Like, like me?" I stuttered.

"Yeah," she said, fiddling with a leaf from my Poison Ivy costume.

"That's good," I started, "Because I like you too."

There was a long silence as we waited on her porch for my Mother to pick me up. We looked at our feet. She had a large freckle on her big toe; she brushed the freckle against the sole of my foot. I laughed loudly, but I had no idea of what to do.

To be a lesbian at our high school was not cool. Only losers were faggots. And we were not losers: we were on the varsity soccer team, sang in choir and drank Diet Pepsi with every meal.

In the halls, we held hands like the other freshmen couples, but very carefully: only in crowded halls, when the action seemed to be a safety measure, to keep from being jostled.

Before first period one day, we were sitting next to each other on the cafeteria benches, pushed close by overcrowding and affection. The previous night, I had decided to kiss her as the bell rang, such that there would be so much chaos that we would go unnoticed. Just a peck, of course, just to let her know.

But as the bell rang and I leaned close to her face, a friend's huge, swinging backpack knocked me over, pushing both of us off the benches, with me on top of her. More accurately, with my lips on top of her. Her lips were soft, I remember. Very soft. I didn't even notice landing.

Her eyes were open. She turned her face a bit and must have seen all of our friends goggling. She pushed me off of her and got to her feet, walking away. I grabbed my bag and ran after her, but she turned away from me.

We don't speak anymore.

Elizabeth McKenna, New York

2007-02-12T09:53:00.000-05:00

The bottle was spun countless times. Each time it stopped, I braced myself, preparing for that awkward moment. I always breathed a sigh of relief when I was not picked because no one listened to the "no tongue" policy and they were frenching left and right. Finally, the bottle pointed in my direction.

David Ram was the lucky guy. In that moment, I began to see him as the disgusting kid he really was. Everything about him was a muted tan colored, from his shellackedhair to his shoes. The air felt hot as we crawled across the concrete space that divided us. Pebbles and dust dug into my hands and knees. I focused on that rather than on his sweaty face coming closer and closer to mine. I could smell his cologne that was put on with hands too anxious for the "spin the bottle" part of the evening. It was mildly spicy and musky with just a hint of jerk. I think the scent might have been "Charlie," the cheap brand sold at Longs' drug store. I wanted to barf once I smelled it.

The thought of his tongue shoving its way into the back of my throat made me gag more than his cologne did. I was dizzy with the entire unpleasant sensory overload.

He closed his eyes as he pushed forward. I was shocked to see that he did not seem repelled in any way. In fact, he seemed eager as hell. I would never have guessed that the shy, nervous kid who couldn’t bring himself to talk in class would be that perverted as to want to kiss a girl.

In the moments before we were supposed to kiss, I resolved to not let it happen and jerked my head around when he was close enough that I could feel his breath on my neck. Even the slightly moist smack on the side of my face felt wrong and awful.

I heard a girl say, "It's not that big of a deal. It’s just a kiss."

How was it not a big deal? He was nasty.

Victoria's Secret First Kisses

2007-02-06T10:24:00.000-05:00

Normally, new content is posted on Mondays, but we absolutely could not ignore the commercial we saw last night featuring Victoria's Secret supermodels talking about their own first kisses. Here is a link. [via buzzhumor] -ed

Victoria Secret Models Talk About First Kiss

Ken Keegan

2007-02-05T09:23:00.000-05:00

N., 13-years-old

2007-02-05T09:13:00.001-05:00

It was on a train from California to Colorado.

He was 13, so was I. His Dad entered the viewing car and saw me sitting by myself. The Dad approached me and my book and began a conversation; when I engaged, he called his son, M, who was seated on the other side of the car, to come join us. He did.

We talked, embarrassedly, like two teenagers will do, and then continued bumping into one another during dinner and then the on-board movie, Moonstruck.

After all the older people went to bed, he made that squirmy, icky move and I knew I was going to be kissed! He kissed the back of my neck, then my ears, and then with one fell swoop got me on the mouth with tongue and everything!

The moment we've all been waiting for...and I re-rehearsed it again and again before it happened and then re-played it over and over once it had.

Twenty years later...I still like it! Best activity there is.

Rite of Passage - A.Dapprich, California

2007-02-05T09:13:00.000-05:00

So many thoughts were racing though my mind: open mouth or closed? Long or short? French or American? Where do I put my hands? Her back? Maaaaybe, her arm? How about the butt? Is it too soon to touch her butt? I mean, I'm kissing her, shouldn't that give me the right to touch her ass? Although, what if she gets shocked and slaps me? Wouldn't THAT just be great…slapped on my first attempt at a kiss. Ok, ok…I can do this. It's just a kiss; I've been kissing for years! Although, in all fairness, "Goodnight Kisses" from Mom and the way Aunt Patty leaves a Rorschach blot on my cheek every time she greets me doesn't really count.

"Will? Is everything alright? You haven't said anything and you're sorta sweaty?" I looked down at my hand clasped around hers, immediately dropped it and nervously wiped my hand on my shirt.

"Oh," I said with a sheepish grin and a chuckle, "sorry, about that."

Good job Casanova, sweat all over the girl. If she wasn't hot for you before, she's just DYING to have your sweaty lips molesting her face now.

She looked over at me and gave me a kind forced smile, as though she was saying, 'God, you're awkward…but it's sort of cute.' I looked her square in the eye with fire and passion, but I'm pretty sure I looked more constipated than anything.

Quick! Quick! Now's your chance! She's all buttered up by your befuddled behavior.

I delicately grabbed her chin and brought her eyes to meet mine. Now or never! DO IT! I slowly went in for the kill, closing my eyes right before impact. Our lips touched and for what felt like hours I held my breath so nothing could disturb the moment. And then it was over.

She looked at me, smiled, and looked at her feet. "That was nice," slipped from her lips in a sigh.

"Ya, I thought so too."

Posting for the memory of Paul Eckna, who died on 9/11/01 in the WTC tragedy.

2007-01-28T19:02:00.000-05:00

This isn't the story of my first actual kiss. I can't even remember that one. Must not have been that monumental.

No, this is a story of the first kiss that launched my first real relationship. It was October 1990. Football season. Sophomore year. I was co-captain of the JV cheering squad, though by all means, not one of the popular girls often associated with the title. I hadn't yet grown into my lovely Italian nose, and I so desperately wanted to be accepted and loved. Remember those days?

My best friend Jackie's brother Bobby was a year older than us. He invited us to a party after one of the games. He ran with all the cool kids, so we thought we were the bomb. After a couple of beers from the warm keg, we all relaxed and became ourselves. There was this one guy Paul, who I had flirted with on occasion at Jackie's house. He was a cute, huge football player with very warm, smiley eyes. I can't remember how we got on St. Paul's field (did he ask me to go for a walk maybe?) but before I knew it, I was sitting on his varsity jacket close to him under the stars.

He was lying on his side, leaning up on one arm. I remember we talked for a long time, and then he asked if I'd be his girlfriend. I can feel my heart doing flip-flops at the memory of it. Of course I said yes, and he leaned in and kissed me so softly on the lips and we just stayed still like that for what seemed like hours. I remember feeling the October chill on my back, and the warmth of his face on my lips.

It was so lovely. He pulled away and put his hand on my cheek and with a big smile that could melt your heart, he said "good." I turned my gold, heart-shaped ring so the point was pointing towards my heart, telling the world I'm taken. Minutes later, we were tackled by 4 or 5 huge football players, screaming "Way to go, Eck!"

Paul and I lost touch after high school, but I have so many fond memories of our relationship (and some insane ones as well – we didn't wind up together so you can imagine it didn't end pretty). He was a great friend, and I'm so sad that he's not here to reconnect with and joke about those good old days. He was probably the only one who truly knew me during that time.

Jenny Williams, California

2007-01-23T19:18:00.000-05:00

After Miracles, 1998

The car was dark and we sat parked in his driveway, still in our seatbelts. The mocha I'd gulped at Miracles Cafe an hour back made me fidgety and alert; my fingers tapped the steering wheel, nervous, waiting. I couldn't bring myself to look at him. We were seniors in high school and I was embarrassed, him so experienced and me always awkward, never knowing what came next.

He let out a big breath and turned his face to mine. My eyes flickered up.

"Well then," he said. And kissed me.

It was wet. In all my years imagining the circumstances of my first kiss, not once did I factor saliva into the equation. And soft -- I had no idea lips could be so soft, especially a boy's lips, especially this boy's lips, whose body was so rough with surfing and skating and daredevil tricks. A boy I'd known since preschool, when we chased each other in the school yard and traded chewing gum at lunch. A boy who had become, suddenly and without warning, tall and wind-blown, with bleached hair and a crooked grin.

He pulled back and said nothing, locking his eyes with mind in a measured gaze.

"I'm...I'm sorry," I stammered. "I don't really know..."

He hushed me with a finger.

"Practice. Lots of it. Doctor's orders." Smiling, he kissed me again.

Judith Harkham Semas

2007-01-16T15:54:00.000-05:00

Wonders of Seventh Grade: Kisses and Creamed Corn

When he kissed me, Barry Jakes tasted faintly of creamed corn. That was okay with me. It was my first kiss and I was crazy about creamed corn. Actually, I preferred corn on my lips to Barry, but when the bottle was spun it had pointed at me, and resisting social pressure was a concept I'd not yet mastered. Besides, I longed to discover what kissing a boy was like.

That first kiss was a real letdown, a hurried, eyes-scrunched, nose-crinkled smack. But then, it took practice to master the art of kissing -- not to mention its vocabulary. In the discovery I had to survive more than one awkward episode, like the time that "older man" -- a high school sophomore who'd been flirting in the movie line with me, a clumsy pup of a seventh-grader -- asked, with a wink, "Do you French?" meaning, of course, "Do you French kiss?"

To my everlasting mortification, the whole line heard me chirp in reply, "No, I'm Portuguese!"

Learning the complexities of locking lips was only one of the breakthroughs of seventh grade. In seventh grade I was protected enough that my neighborhood was home without question or fear, yet free enough to mix easily with boys from different backgrounds and schools ... young enough to over-dramatize every misspoken word, yet old enough to slow-dance achingly close ... indulged enough to be dished up all the creamed corn I wanted, yet independent enough to take my first steps toward adulthood and the world beyond.

Seventh grade, when I stood poised on the threshold of realized potential, was one of the sweetest times of my life -- almost as sweet as creamed corn.

E. Welch, 10 years old

2007-01-14T18:36:00.000-05:00

It was Halloween 1984. We were playing spin the bottle at a friend's house... her mother was only 26 and we were 10. She wasn't paying any attention to us. When the bottle pointed to both of us we went outside under the trailer steps. We crouched down and he asked me, "what kind do you want to do?" I knew what he was asking but I played dumb. "Huh?" I asked. He said, "French or Regular?" I said, "Regular." We kissed. He had big lips and I thought the feeling was fascinating and a little gross. We kissed later in the closet.

Twenty years later he looked me up. He still tastes the same, when I kissed him this morning.

Oberon, NYC

2007-01-09T17:59:00.000-05:00

I was a very experienced kisser; I started kissing girls when I was about 11 or 12 and it was an incredible experience every time. My high-school girlfriend was a deliciously perfect kisser. We would kiss for hours at a time, literally, and saying good night to her after a date took a good ten minutes of tongue time.

But there was something missing, not in the kissing but in what kissing normally leads to. I knew all along that I really wanted to be kissing another boy; but living in a town of 750 people in the middle of nowhere, that was pretty much just a fantasy.

It didn't happen until I was 25; by then I was frequently going to the opera - the Met in NYC - and had this opera buddy who was still in his teens, a very cute Jewish boy. I was attracted to him but I didn't know how to get him into a 'situation' - basically I had no clue how to seduce another guy...or what to do with him once I'd seduced him.

One night the opera ended very late and he had conveniently missed the last bus home; I invited him to stay with me at my hotel. I realize now it was a set-up - on both sides - but I was a nervous wreck. We got into bed in our briefs and for the longest time we pretended to be falling asleep. Then I couldn't stand it any more and put my arms around him. He turned and we started kissing. And that was when life truly began for me.

Sheila Needs, 6 (and three quarters) years old

2007-01-07T22:26:00.000-05:00

One Summer Barbeque, Many Years Ago…

In my six year old way, I fell in love with him immediately, so of course I was trying to attack him.

“How old are you?” I said.
“Six and a half,”
“I’m six and three quarters,” I boasted, swinging as high as I could.
“Oh yeah? Bet you can’t do this.”

And with that, he leaped from the swing just as it had reached its highest arc, landing on his knees in the dirt. His perfect knees were bloody. I could hide my feelings no longer, I was terrified.

I sprinted to our house, snatching Band-Aids and mercurochrome from the bathroom. When I arrived back on the scene, my brave stunt man refused my help. It turned out his highness had an aversion to anything medical. I must have chased him around the house three times before we both got tired and went in to watch Disney’s Robin Hood.

Behind the couch, he knelt on his knees facing me and began to move in. His lips were wet, sticky and not puckered. He simply pressed them on mine and held there for a few seconds. I could taste grass, dirt and popsicle. Did my man eat dirt? It didn’t matter now. I loved all four seconds of it.

“Will you be my wife?” he asked. Suddenly, my six year old love affairs flashed before me. There was Brice my kindergarten accomplice, Stuart, across the street, and Ray, 5 years my senior, a brilliant artist.

“Oh -------,” I sighed, and then we fell to kissing again. This time I felt his tongue in my mouth. I promptly offered critique.

“Ew. I don’t think your doing it right,”

“That’s how grown ups do it,”

After that night, I never saw him again.

Ashley

2007-01-04T09:28:00.000-05:00

His dad had died that year. First grade. I picked out a coloring book and crayons to cheer him up. A few weeks after he came back to school we were sitting in Miss Sigmund's music class. She left the room to go get something. Stefan sat next to me. He leaned over and kissed my cheek. I must have turned every shade of red. Everyone in the class was laughing and shouting for him to do it again. He did. I offered my cheek. Fast forward to 11th grade when we lived three time zones apart. He sent me a valentine.