The first time I remember kissing a girl, I was six, and she was six. She kissed me. I was standing by my desk getting ready to leave, packing my stuff to go. She came straight to me, but surprised me as much as coming from behind me. She grabbed my face and kissed me. This wasn’t my first kiss when I was four, a pastor's daughter laid an unforeseen kiss on me as our family was leaving. I don’t remember this, but my mom and dad have irrefutable photographic evidence.

I don...