The first kiss.

I was in 8th grade when I got my first kiss, and here's the tale recalled a few years later.

July 9th, 2000
"He didn't know he was my first kiss.  I was too intimidated to tell him because, hell, he had sex when he was in fifth grade.  Surely he'd kissed a thousand times.  I had no idea what I was doing.  I read the kissing articles in Seventeen [magazine] thousands of times but couldn't remember a single thing except to put my right hand on his chest.  I didn't know I had to open my mouth.  Tim asked me if I knew how to kiss, if I knew I was supposed to open my mouth, and I told him it was just because I was nervous.  Did he want to go on a walk?  We held hands and chewed minty gum as we walked down the road.  Under a street light, next to a ditch filled with the songs of frongs, as Valerie and Leigh Anne looked the other way, Tim gave me my first real kiss.  I was scared, mouth open, right hand correctly resting on his chest.  His tongue was skinny and long and eager.  I didn't know when to stop, how long it was going to last, how long it was even supposed to last, and just how was I supposed to breathe?  That night I didn't brush my teeth, that's how impressed I was.
The next week Tim told me he loved me and I hung up on him.  Then I broke up with him on the bus.  The bus driver thought less of me, but oh well, she was old anyway."

This is 8th grade....with Bonnie (see entry about us being "gods") and Brandi.