The brand-new Super Wal-Mart had opened, and my mom and I were shopping for school supplies. I walked past a boy and his mother, and I was knocked out. He had sun-kissed skin, big eyes, and bright blonde hair like mine, only his was cut into a John-John. I decided to savor the moment by watching him walk all the way past me and disappear down an aisle. 

You can imagine how I was floored when I saw the same boy, Bradley Veillon, on my first day of second grade — seated right in front of me (thanks, alphabetical order!). He was new to our school, but he was popular right away. He played soccer and could draw really well. I loved that he could run fast; being quite the runner myself, I’d race and chase with him at every opportunity.

Once, in third grade, my soccer team played against his. He and I were both forwards, and we made contact during a play. I was trying to show off, which immediately led to my getting hurt. Bradley went to steal the ball, and somehow my shinguard broke when he kicked me. A little piece of plastic went into my right shin. It eventually became a decent-sized scar, and I would always draw hearts around it with ballpoint pen.

 

After years of worshipping from afar, I found myself in sixth grade and still pining. Bradley and I had been flirting (for FOR-EV-ERRR, FOR-EV-ERRRR)

and somehow I’ve forgotten how exactly we started “goin’ out”. BUT WE DID! Victory was finally mine! So, I attended a Catholic school, and there was a mandatory overnight retreat being held in the gym. It was fine and good, and one thing I learned there really resonated with me: “Girls are pink, and boys are blue. Don’t make purple.”

Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It’s been nine years since my last confession, and these are my sins: I made purple. A lot of purple. How many Hail Marys will set this straight? In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit…

SO ANYWAY. The next morning, after we attended a very special mass to celebrate our retreat, I had made some plans for a double date. My mom picked up Anne, Taylor, Bradley, and me in her 1997 Toyota 4Runner (mine since 2002, y’all), and we headed across the bay to Mobile to see a movie.

We bought our tickets and settled in to watch, very aptly, Never Been Kissed starring Drew Barrymore. I remember making a mental note: That Kirsten girl is really pretty. I need to see who played her because she’s going to be big.

 
Alexi Vrabel: makin’ good calls on celebrities since 1999.

Well, the usual hand holding until the sweat becomes unbearable was going on, and I was ashamed as always. Sorry, future dates/boyfriends/husbands…I’m sweaty. But I think he really liked me because he didn’t mind that I had to let go after a while to wipe my palms on my jeans.

We hopped back in the car with my parents when our movie let out, and I was just so, so smitten. Just overly happy. We drove straight to Bradley’s house to drop him and Taylor off, and when we pulled into the driveway — just before the light came on with an ajar door — he leaned in and kissed me. It was one of those romantic, partially-opened lip kisses that are warm and moist and…ahhhhh. But what was this?! TONGUE! The tips of our tongues met, and we both pulled away a little surprised. All at once, I had grown up. I had [sort of] been French kissed! A quick “goodnight,” and he was gone-baby-gone. 

Anne was going to spend the night with me, so we talked my parents into taking us to Waffle House. We put in our order; back in those days, I would get a grilled cheese with hashbrowns “covered” (this is Waffle House speak for “with cheese”) and a homemade cherry Coke. As soon as our waitress walked away, I announced I needed to go to the bathroom, and I dragged Anne in with me.

“BRADLEY KISSED ME! GRHLJAIEGKYWE!”
“Oh my God, no way!”
“Yup.”

And then I pulled out my gum, held it up to her, and said, “This gum was practically in his mouth!”

When we returned to our booth and our food was delivered, I carefully put my gum on the corner of the plate…far from crumbs and ketchup. As we were leaving, I picked it up and tucked it into my once-sweaty palm. I got to my house that night and put the gum in a tiny drawer on a Hickory Dickory Dock clock, next to an amethyst Chip Bryars gave me in kindergarten. It was my little drawer of boy stuff. I might not have the little drawer anymore, but I still collect little bits and pieces in the form of memories from the men I have loved. They’re some of my most valuable possessions.