Ah. Well. Shockingly enough I wasn't kissed until I was nineteen. Although at that point I was telling everyone my first kiss happened in a French youth hostel when I was fifteen, this was just a big LIE. The Cromer kissage occurred in a pub, on some red leatherette seating. It seemed to go on rather a long time, and was quite boring once the novelty had worn off. I can't remember much about the kisser, except that he wasn't enormously attractive, and he later threatened to throw himself off Cromer pier if I didn't phone him the next day. I didn't phone him, but I never heard of any fatal accidents in the area, so I'm assuming he got over it.