The worst kiss I ever got was from a guy named Billy Bob. He was truly a “Billy Bob” sort of guy. He came to Oklahoma to live with his aunt one summer in 1946. Billy Bob would have been a nice looking guy, but had huge buck teeth. His cousin Glen lived with his aunt and was dating a girl from our school. Glen did not want to go out with his girlfriend and leave Billy Bob at home. Since my parents lived a couple of miles away, Glen suggested that we double date with them. Besides that, Billy Bob had wheels. I did not want to go with him, but he kept pestering me, so I decided to go with him if only for Glen’s sake. I planned to be cool enough that he would never ask me out again.

I spent a miserable evening on our double date. I was very cool toward Billy Bob, but I was neither mean nor insulting. My coolness never fazed him a bit. I could hardly wait for the night to end.

When Billy Bob took me home, he ushered me to the door and before I could make a quick exit (getaway) inside, he suddenly planted a quick wet smack on my lips. I opened the door and went directly to the kitchen and spit in the slop bucket several times. Mama just happened to walk through on her way into the kitchen and asked what I was doing. I told her I was spitting because he kissed me and the rest of the story. She laughed hysterically and then teased me the rest of her life about the situation. I would rather have kissed a pig!