Kiss and Tell

For your edification, I’m currently camping on the beach in San Diego with my best friend and her family.

Our BFF-ness was cemented with such camping trips during our youth. Realizing we were equally boy-crazy and equally dedicated to lying to win over our fleeting crushes really brought us together.

Lest you think camping on the beach is like camping on the woods, let me assure you that while you do sleep in tents, there are bathrooms, electrical outlets and warm showers if you have some spare quarters. Depending on the location of the campsite, civilization might be across the street or just down the road. And the beach is either out your tent door or down a flight of stairs.

So even though we were camping, Mrs. Jay and I always packed our best clothes and a boatload of makeup. (Though to our credit, we were never high-maintenance girls.) We’d primp every night after a day of laying out and trying to surf. Then, we’d troll the roads outside the campsites looking for guys our age. If that failed, we’d look for guys under 18. And if that failed, we’d settle for anything under 21.

Of course, anything under 21 wasn’t always interested in something around 13 so we often had to fudge our age. I think we were 17 for three years straight. Our ruse usually worked or at least no one was bothered enough to confront us.

While I cannot confirm or deny any rumors that are still rampant in the San Diego metropolitan area, our deceit may or may not have resulted in some extracurricular kissing. (No worries, mom, nothing serious.)

One year I kissed Mrs. Jay’s cousin while he was wearing his clothes backward in an ode to the then-popular Kriss Kross. Another year I kissed a boy who was so uninteresting I actually came up with a brilliant closet organization scheme while we kissed atop the lifeguard station. And then there was the time that we went to Disneyland, and I kissed a professional volleyball player, but that’s another story.

(This is the point that I could tell you about the time that Mrs. Jay kissed a Christian rapper in our tent while I was sleeping right next to her, but since I’m a good friend I won’t embarrass her. For the record, she has apologized repeatedly for the incident and avoided Christian rap in my honor.)

I don’t think I’m going to be kissing any boys this year as Mr. Dub is back home working hard for my spending money.

But I will be taking a trip down Memory Lane this week in honor of my beach vacay, and I’m hoping you’ll join me.

Which means it’s your turn to tell us your most random kissing story.

We won’t tell.

Promise.