I had 112.2 miles of driving yesterday (yes! I just filled out my expense report, so I know) to think of something to post on The Great MoFo Delurk Day, and that topic up there? Was the best I could come up with. So sad. And I had such great plans. Even chopping (well, getting chopped) 4 inches off of my hair this morning (which had every possibility of post material heaven) was anti-climactic.

(Although this new salon I found - and stylist? Oh Mah Gawd. The girl knows how to cut hair and flatter, but her voice? Think “The Nanny”. And her laugh? Think “Mr. Ed”)

And so, here they are. I don’t know if my inner slut feels bad or good about the number(s), and really, I was a cop’s daughter, so believe it or not, even if I missed a couple? This is about it.

Kindergarten - Roy M.
Freckle-faced and red-headed, Roy was the brain of the Kindergarten class. Even then, he was about a foot shorter than me. Since I was the “girl brain”, it was assumed that we should be boyfriend and girlfriend. He kissed me during recess….over by the monkey bars….standing on his tiptoes…..

Seventh Grade - Kirk? Kurt? I have no freakin’ clue
Okay, so I had a bit of a dry spell. (yea, yea, I may as well have been a nun!) I met this guy at a cub scout meeting. (My brother was the cub scout, not me.) Turns out my dad and his dad had gone to high school together. (History! Connection!) He walked over to my house one day after school (he went to a different Jr. High) because I told all my girlfriends that I had a boyfriend. I needed proof.

Um, he kissed me, but y’all? He wasn’t as cute as he was the night of the cub scout meeting. In fact? He was downright dorky…greasy, stringy hair and all. (Yes, it was 7th grade and I was ALL ABOUT looks.) So, I broke up with him after the first kiss and sent him walking back home. (Sorry about that Kirk?Kurt?)

Eighth Grade - Steve L.
Oh, the cuteness of this boy. He was yummalicious. No other way to describe him. He lived in the subdivision down the street. He was a year younger than me. (And, yes, dammit, shorter). I think we lasted a month. I sang a lot of Air Supply (I’m lying alone with my head on the phone…Thinking of you till it hurts) to ease my poor broken heart.

Ninth Grade - Another Steve. Or was it Mike?
He was a sophomore. He kept asking me out, but … y’all? My Dad said no dating until I was 15. And my dad? Was a police sergeant. So Steve (or Mike) - who rode the bus with me - kissed me on the bus. But that was it. Flirtation, thy name is Hotfessional.

I think tenth grade was a nun-erific year, too. Hell, I can’t remember. I remember getting in a whole shitload of trouble for skipping classes in 9th grade, so I was probably on my absolute best behavior.

Eleventh Grade - Mike K., Jeff M.
Mike was love. love. love. No ifs/ands/buts about this one. The one I gave myself to. I was 16 and we could date - football games, movies, ‘helping me babysit’. He tried to teach me how to drive a standard transmission car. I failed miserably. He took me to Junior Prom in February and we broke up in March. He was a theatre geek and he dumped me for a singer in the Spring Musical. Gah. I cried for weeks.

After Mike, there was Jeff. He was 23, I was 17. Needless to say, MomandDad? Not. effin’. pleased. Well, he lasted the summer, with lots of sneakin’ around.

Senior Year - Brian, George K, Dan I, Ken M, Andy W (It was senior year people! Geez.)

Brian was a friend’s brother.

George was a long-distance runner and his locker was right next to mine. He took me to Red Lobster for dinner and we made out in the car afterwards. He was a great kisser. Unfortunately, there was no repeat performance.

Dan was another runner - and he showed up at my house for our date in a Rocky Horror-inspired clear plastic raincoat and black lipstick. Um, need I say more?

Ken - Unmemorable. Other than he rode horses with me.

Andy - Senior Prom date. He’s a doctor now. Sigh.

Then I went to become a “Spartan Woman!!!!!!” - and met Practice Husband. My second day on campus. Ack. Sometimes I’m such an idiot. 20,000 men and I fall for the guy playing frisbee on the front lawn. Side Note -> Everclear Vodka and Grape Koolaid? Not good.

So, I went through the next 9 years and kissed ONE man. (Wait. There was that guy at my bachelorette party - does that count? I think his name was John Studly.)

Then Practice and I split, and I’ve been kissin’ with Mr. Hot ever since.

—- So, that’s that. And here’s the hair - less 4 inches. And y’all? Come 10/15, I’m getting rid of the gray. I’m officially having a mid-life crisis. Now go forth and comment! —-