Can be anyone
First grade. Ah, Jennifer.
I’ll let you know.
Third or fourth grade. Mark. He played the accordion.
Sixth grade, with one of my classmates. There might have been one or two movie or TV characters who were a little earlier (likely Maryann Summers or Princess Leia), but sixth grade was the first time with a real person I could actually interact with.
Angela Cartwright on “make room for daddy”. I think I was about 8 or 9. TOTALLY in love!
My first boyfriend. I was in 7th grade; he was in 8th. I had the heart pounding, nausea and swooniness, and I truly believed I was in love. I’d had crushes in earlier grades, but this was actually someone I was dating, which in my mind, lent it legitimacy.
I honestly don’t even remember how long it lasted, or why I broke up with him. I guess it wasn’t him, it was me.
As an apparent anomaly, I fell in love for the first time when I was about 40 years old. She was a physically distant coworker. After only a few dates it was obvious to me. Not to her, however. It took another eight years for the universe to rearrange itself before we established ourselves together.
Finding J. was the most wonderful thing I’ve ever experienced. I will die knowing how great being in love can be. Corny perhaps, but a great realization nevertheless. Yowza!
I was about five, her name was Margie, and we had a mock wedding. Little did I know that I wouldn’t have a real wedding for another 66 years, and his name sure isn’t Margie.
When he walked into the office in his summer whites uniform (USN) and smiled. s.w.o.o.n. Pilots do it better. 
Oh, first job, I was 18.
Junior high. His name was Paul and he was from the ‘wrong side of the tracks’ in an already run down neighborhood. He was absolutely smitten and I needed to be convinced. We parted ways and then hooked back up as freshman. Now it was me that was head-over-heels and he had other possibilities. Then I moved and there was no romance until I was a senior. We were both pretty enamored then, but distance and general fuckery proved a problem. And that was all.
Until I was in my mid-thirties and separated from my husband. The wonders of the internet reconnected us and I finally discovered what I should’ve figured out at 13; my first Twue Wuv was a total scumbag asshole who I thank my lucky stars every day that I didn’t get saddled with forever. Good riddance to “bad boy” rubbing.
About 14. It was the first time I met someone I would consider spending my life with; always my personal definition of love.
Michelle in 7th grade.
Never. Unless you count fictional people, that is.
15, I think. Your definition of “love” grows as you do, of course.
Shit I was a late bloomer I guess. Sophomore year of college. Friend of a friend. She liked me but I was too hung up on another girl. Turns out the other girl was a bit of a flake and by the time I really got to know her she had a boyfriend and I was in very bad shape.