5th or 6th grade, not sure which. His name was Mark, blond, blue eyes and my next-door neighbor. Also a younger man since he was a grade behind me in school. We used to kneel behind the boxes and magazines in my garage and smooch. He gave me a plastic diamond ring which I still have. All in all, not a bad summer. Alas, his family moved away at the end of it.
My first kiss was on a stage, in front of hundreds of people. I played the male lead in a high school play, and didn’t get along with the girl who played the female lead. She had wanted another guy to get my part (he was cuter), but I got the part instead, and she held it against me. During rehearsals we had always done a “stage kiss,” but the night of the performance she ate a clove of garlic right before her entrance, and planted a big ole kiss right on-target.
I can honestly say, she was the last female I ever kissed.
Heather. 3rd grade. She used to hold me down on the playground and kiss me in front of everyone. I got my revenge by spitting on her.
Later on, I saw her again in jr. high and she instantly recognized me:
“Aren’t you [kidneyfailure]?” she asked.
Remebering who she was and feeling embarrassed, I gave her a fake name.
"Oh, sorry, " she said. “You look like this boy I used to like in elementary school.”
My first REAL kiss didn’t come until I was 17! I was a nerd and didn’t attract much attention from females in my youth.
My first kiss wasn’t in elementary school.
I spent a month in Ireland the summer I was 15. The group was organized by my primary school; I was already in high school, but my parents had considered that 14 was too young. And a good thing it was, too, because until 8th grade my ESL teachers had been lousy and in 9th I had Micaela (who was the bestestest ever and that is too a word).
We flew up on a Wednesday, arrived to the town where we’d stay at half past eleven (half past midnight, back-home-time) and were distributed to our host families.
My family was a cockney man, his Finnish wife, their three-year old son and two cats; he worked in a supermarket, she was a SAHM. I’ll call them John and Mary. The kid woke me up at three am, jumping up and down on me and yelling “get out of my bed!” Yay.
On Thursday we went to the school and took some tests, to be assigned to each of the three groups as appropriate.
On Thursday night, my host parents took me over to the neighbors across the street, along with the bottle of Lepanto brandy my father had insisted in sending me with. I’d told him I didn’t expect the host family to appreciate it; sadly, I was right. A Spanish brandy so good that even the French consider it good, and these people gulped it down from tall glasses - and by the glassfull, too. The neighbor was a police sergeant, his wife a SAHM; I’ll call her Rose although that wasn’t her name. They had an adopted daughter. The kid had to be adopted because the wife had had to “get emptied” in order to be able to take her job as a “bar girl” in Marbella, where the husband had first met her as a client. Her “manager” had given her a cut-glass set of cups as a wedding gift: she asked me to explain to her what each cup was for, as “I didn’t dare ask Príncipe when he gave it to me because he had such a temper and he used to yell at me for being ignorant.” The neighbor’s niece was there too, she was my age.
Once they’d all ingested one or two tall glasses of brandy, plus at least one of something else, we all piled up into a car and drove to the town’s poshest hotel, which had a sort of disco in the bottom floor. It was kind’a strange in that people danced individually but forming these big circles, but at the same time that made it easy for me to just walk in and dance. At one point I saw a man talking with “my father,” who pointed me out. The man joined my circle several bodies away from me. After a while he was dancing beside me. The second time the DJ called a break for “couples dances,” (the first one I’d suffered through a waltz with the cop’s violin cases) the man asked me whether I was there with “my parents,” I said yes, he said “that’s funny, John said you were fifteen but you don’t look fifteen,” “I don’t? well, I am” I ended up showing him my passport. He laughed and told me the club was for 18+ as it served hard alcohol. I walked up to my table to confirm this: yep. I said I didn’t like that, since basically it meant I was breaking the law without meaning to. They were supposed to take care of me, not make me break the law. The cop said “it’s all right, you’re with me!” U-hu.
Another round of dancing, then at midnight the song was cut short for the Irish anthem. I went to my table and told “my parents” I needed to go to the bathroom, they said OK.
When I came out, there was nobody there. Well, there was people, but my group was nowhere to be seen. The only person I knew was John’s friend. He walked up and told me he’d agreed with John and Mary to take me to his house. I said “to your house? why?” He laughed and said “why, to see the furniture!” “I have no interest in your furniture.” “Oh, c’mon.” “No.”
I walked out. I didn’t even have my jacket any more, my group had taken it. There were several panda cars outside. If the neighbor hadn’t been a cop, I would have walked up and asked them to help me, but how do you walk to a cop and tell him “hi, I’m one of those foreigners who’ve arrived today, I’m way underage to be here but I was brought here by my host family and the neighbors, I don’t remember my exact address but the police sergeant across the street is Mike Imanass.” Right.
Well, I could see the road the school bus took, so I stuck my hands in my armpits and started walking. John’s friend grabbed my arm and said “I’ll take you home.” I looked at him and said “John’s home, not your home.” “Yeah.” “OK.” He started walking to his car and I said “you know where he lives.” “Yeah, sure, I’m his boss!” “OK.”
We were silent through the short ride. When we got there, the two houses were dark, there was clearly nobody in yet. He asked if I wanted him to stay until they arrived, as the car was warm at least. I said no. We got out of the car and he said “and you’re going to leave me like this? C’mon, at least a kiss!” I gave him a kiss on the cheek. “No, I mean a real one!” and he grabbed me and kissed me on the lips. I closed both my lips and my eyes tight. He stepped back laughing and said “c’mon, you’ve watched too many movies, you’re not really supposed to close your eyes!” and he started laughing. And then he looked at me and his face fell. Through the planet, more or less. “Oh SHIT. That wasn’t your first kiss, was it?” I nodded. “It was your first kiss?” Another nod. “Oh shit, I’m sorry.” “'sok.”
Friday they were all busy nursing headaches.
Saturday morning, Mary and the neighbor’s niece spent several hours trying to convince me that I should have gone with John’s boss “to look at the furniture” (up close, baby!) and refusing to believe me when I said I was a virgin and not interested in seeing any man without his drawers yet, thanks; they didn’t stop until Rose came and threw the book at them with both hands. She was the only human being in the whole group.
No action in elementary school here, either. My first kiss was with a “younger” man. I was 17, he was 15. He’s one of my best friends (we’ve known each other since we were about 8) and I do lunch with his wife and baby girl whenever they’re in town.
Hah. Just realized I was a cougar in high school. Cool 
Kim in Kindergarten. We were walking home from school in the dead of winter, and she asked if I wanted to kiss her. I swooped in, and she said “Wait, let’s make sure no one’s watching.” Then we did the dirty deed.
Happened at least twice.
I’m not sure if we were holding hands, and I’m not sure if I was making a pup tent in my pants, but I’d bet on yes to both.
- Drove her to the movies. I don’t remember which movie it was but it was pretty crappy. I remembered she started kissing me, I thought it was pretty cool, then she slipped me the tongue. I then freaked.
Yeah…
Karen in 3rd grade. I gave her one of those notes in class… I love you, do you love me? With the choices: yes, no, maybe. She circled yes! We snuck a quick kiss during recess, it was awesome.
I don’t remember ever thinking that girls were gross so why not start early?
His name was Dan. He was one of the shorter boys in the class, but I was a very small girl. I think it was first grade. He asked me first, but he didn’t give me a chance to answer.
I don’t remember her name, but she was cute and wanted to be my girlfriend. That was fine, I didn’t mind. She wanted a kiss so we went inside the outer door to the kindergarten entrance, so it wouldn’t be in front of everyone, Might as well have been, ‘cuz they all figured out what had gone down.
Unfortunately, the relationship was doomed. She had an annoying habit of wetting the ends of her ponytails in the drinking fountain and sucking the water from that. So I dropped her sorry ass for that. As I should have. Five-year-olds should have some dignity.
Much later in life, I stayed with women who did much worse, but I was too screwed up to realize the lessons I learned in kindergarten really are the most important things you’ll ever know.
Fifth grade. She was my first girlfriend. We’re still friends. She’s a Celtic musician in New York state now.
Brandon, at church camp. I was 11, and I knew you were supposed to close your eyes when you kissed. I ended up kissing him in that spot between his nose and lips.
The philtrum. 
Same here.
I was the ring bearer at my uncle’s first wedding. I was six years old and had to kiss the flower girl at the reception in front of everybody. She was real old too…eight. I didn’t want to do it and nearly pitched a full blown tantrum. Her name was Janet.
Ah, Julie! I was in third grade, she was in my class (Mrs. Campbell’s, I believe), and we were on a field trip to some sort of museum – I remember it as a planetarium, but the magnificent Reuben H. Fleet Space Theater didn’t open until 1973, and this happened before that, so it must have been Palomar College, which suits my memory better anyway.
I don’t recall what we were supposed to see in that small dark room off the main hall, a display or exhibit of some kind, but we went through one at a time, and we could see very little but the exhibit, and the dim outline of a classmate. Apparently, Julie saw enough – she came up behind me in the dark, slipped beside me (in front of me? it happened so fast!), and planted a fast one on my lips. I was incredibly surprised and, incredibly, not pleased (stupid little boy!) – not until later. By then she had also told me (at a table full of classmates) that I had pretty eyes, which I also didn’t take well, responding with a sarcastic “thanks a lot.” I seem to recall the other girls in the class thought I was an ass.
What a missed opportunity! I liked Julie, and she was definitely one of the prettiest girls in my grade, with wavy brown hair to her shoulders and dreamy blue-grey eyes. Instead, socially awkward Nametag became best friend to the weird girls, and never did know when normal girls liked him. Thank heavens things got a little better in college. Well, after college, really. Sort of.
I wonder what happened to her…?
I loved all the stories - thanks for sharing!!
I’ll add a slightly different twist because it happened more recently and my memory of my own childhood is getting spottier…
My oldest son is 6 now, but 2 years ago he came home from daycare and announced to me and his mom that he got in trouble at school for kissing a girl. Then he proceeded to explain (as only a 4 year old could) that he didn’t kiss her so much as she kissed him. Apparently she had been doing it for a few days but escaped the teacher’s notice. We asked the girl’s name and he replied, “Friendly Rose.” Well, duh! (Her real name is Finley Rose, but he didn’t realize that.)
Donna - 39 years ago. Hard to believe I can remember that far back.
I was 14, she was about the same. Our church youth group meeting was over and a few of us were still wondering around, waiting for rides, when she just came right over to me and planted one on me. Her lips were surprisingly warm and soft. So we leaned against a car (I guess everybody else had left) and made out for a few minutes. A pivital moment for me but I think it was just another notch in her belt as she was never interested in kissing me again. I never got over her and yet she probably never gave me another thought - sigh. Thanks anyhow Donna, I probably would have waited until college otherwise, I was that shy.
Later I actually went to her wedding at that church - I doubt she was more that 16 or 17 when she got married. I sure wish I could remember the details.
Sean, my skinny, timid, bespectacled first grade friend. We were sitting across the aisle from each other on the bus when he caught me in a flying tackle and planted a very wet kiss on me.
I’ve always felt guilty about kangaroo-kicking him right back into his own seat. He grinned the whole way home, little dork. 