I have no idea what made me think of my first kiss recently, but now I can’t stop thinking about it. And not in a good way.
To set this up properly, here’s a picture of me from the First Kiss Era.
I’m pretty sure I was 14 when the kiss happened (although we all know my memory is Brian Williams-caliber terrible) and I think his name was Mike. We met at the mall where my friends and I would try on Z Cavaricci jeans, loiter and try to flirt with boys for hours. Continue reading