I can’t remember if it was Johnny Robertson or Benny Powell. I think Johnny was the first we were in the 5th grade and played in an acient cemetary games with about 6 or 7 others. We would hide behind the stones and kiss rather passionately. Benny was 17 and was sort of like the John Travolta in “Staying Alive” type of guy. I was only 11 years old, looked 15 or 16 due to the hormones I had to take for a few months to regulate my menses. Benny couldn’t keep his hands off of me, my dad was in the veteran’s hospital due to his WWII injury. So, my mom moved me all the way across town to get me away from him. He was trouble with a capital T.

Yes, I remember it well . . . but the story was so much better than the sloppy kiss (which was pretty icky). I was 14 going on 10 when I graduated from high school, and had not “instructions” from my mother . . and none of my friends had had a date yet. We all went to the Univ of Chicago Lab School where you had to take a long exam to get in. Therefore, the kids were scattered all over Chicago and had to come some distance from all over the city. Once school was out we all went in separate directions, up to more than an hour away. Now you know the set-up. To have a date when no one knew how to drive yet, parents of the boy had to pick you up and bring you home. I was an innocent, but so was he. (Thank God!) His parents had — get this - a chauffeur and so when he picked me up for the show each time, the chauffeur drove and picked us up. Awkward became more awkward — but probably better than having parents in the car. Someone told me the rules — no kissing until after the 3rd date. . so I had to see a lot of movies before the big event that I dreaded. But we got to my door — and then ICK! - the sloppy kiss. I will tell you that you always remember sloppy kisses worse than anything. And he was still after me 5 years later — Five years later he said he loved me, grossing me out big time. I could not shake him off. When he was about 60, I read in my alumni magazine that he had been made our country’s head of all the psychoanalysts, and I am not wrong — don’t these doctors have to be psychoanalyized before they get their degree? I will absolutely guarantee that he gave his analyst plenty to think about — as he had to tell about this innocent girl who couldn’t get rid of this boy who didn’t know how to kiss and yet somehow fended him off for all those years, but could NOT make him stop calling. . and I didn’t know how to be really rude, which is what you had to be with someone this persistent!!!!!! “ICKY” became my favorite teenage word, but you know, I did rather get used to the chauffeured car that he came with!!! In the “can you top this” bracket, it was pretty hard to beat!!!!

Nope, I don’t kiss and tell. LOL

Yes I remember. I was in the 3rd grade and we had a nun as a teacher. She always picked on this boy named George. She would take him into the coat room and smack his hands with a ruler. He always came out crying. This one day, Sister called him into the coat room, and I heard the ruler cross George’s hands. I got up from my seat and went to the door way and screamed at the nun to stop hitting him. I told her she was mean and had no reason to hit George. To my surprise, she quit hitting him and told me to go back to my seat. (I was shaking like a leaf!) After school I was going home and walked outside when someone grabbed me and pulled me aside. It was George! He kissed me and thanked me for sticking up for him. He said that no one had ever done that before. So that’s the story of my first kiss. By the way, there was never a second kiss.

My first kiss was a peck on the cheek from my puppy love at 14, so much for the fireworks and all the hoopla.

I just received a portable black and white television for my room. I was in 6th grade and it was my birthday. I was so excited that I kissed my boyfriend Kevin right on the lips. And then I died… What I wouldn’t give to be that excited again and that innocent.

Of course. Some things one never forgets.

Strange, I don’t remember my “first” first kiss but I remember my first kiss with different fellows. And the special thrill with each one of them.

Nothing big I think I was 13 , his name was Jean, a kiss on the cheek. A thousand years later he told my mom that he had been a bad husband so I was lucky that it did not end up well with us.