I was four days shy of my 16th birthday the night a boy kissed me for the first time. His name was Dan, and we were on our first date, "Wayne's World" followed by a cheeseburger and French fry dinner. It was February 29, 1992, and as we stood on the steps of my back porch, Dan leaned down and kissed me -- full-mouthed and everything I dreamed of and more. I was so shocked and inexperienced that I kept my eyes open at first, not sure what to do or where to put my hands. All I knew was that a boy's lips were on mine, and it felt good, like eating ice cream on a summer night.