My first boyfriend ever (that I remember anyway) was Adam W. in kindergarden. He had the orangest hair and the cutest freckles.
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(This isn't him, but you get the picture!)
When we'd line up to go back inside for recess I'd try to be in front of him so I could toss my head from side to side and smack him in the face with my huge ponytail or braid. We'd also play a variant of tag called "Kiss or Kill" where you had to catch someone and decide if you wanted to kiss them or kill them. I usually went for kill, and I feel that I owe Adam an apology for all the times I kicked him in the crotch in elementary school.
Alas, the 5 year old heart is a fickle thing, and I had to dump Adam in first grade for the new red headed kid with freckles, Kameron F.
I think I grew out of my red head obsession by second grade, where I set my sights on the brown haired new kid. Maybe my next obsession was the new kid?
I was lucky enough to attend Adam's wedding last fall, where he joined is spirit with a pretty girl who hopefully doesn't kick him in the crotch or slap him across the face with his hair.
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