The first time I remember holding a boy’s hand was when I was in kindergarten, and that was a very time ago, forty-seven years to be exact. It was for some kind of production each class was putting on for the school. The girls and boys had to line up beside each other, sing along to a particular song all well holding hands. Now in kindergarten pretty much the last thing you want to do is hold the hand of the opposite sex. Girls thought boys were yucky and boys thought girls were yucky at that age. Either way, we had no choice. I clearly remember parading around the classroom holding Michael’s hand (I even remember his last name if you can imagine).