When we are small, we are (hopefully) showered with kisses from our foreheads to our toes; tickled, cooed over and snuggled into warm embraces, where our parents inhale the smell of our hair and revel in the warmth of our skin.
As we head towards secondary school these expressions of love become more than a little embarrassing and our parents must settle for a cheek turned upwards to receive a peck, and cuddles reserved for snuggling on the sofa in front of a film where they can be secretly enjoyed without looking uncool.
Then at some point we become curious about what a lust-filled kiss might contain. Desire and confusion collide and we find ourselves wading through a mire of revulsion, rejection, collision of teeth and wondering if we're ever going to kiss someone where it doesn't taste weird, involve dribble or feel like a tongue-fight. Eventually (and again hopefully) we find someone we can get it right with.
There's a natural order here, from being a recipient of joyous, love-filled fluttering lips, to the sheer excitement of a great snog that - who knows - could end up with a little one to shower your own kisses on