I remember when courtship was as simple as giggling and saying, “Okay now you have to touch my wiener!”

Of course, few girls would actually comply with this request, but it was totally acceptable to ask. Nobody would judge you for it, they just laughed at the size of the thing and ran off to play with their Skip-It.

The first time I saw a boob in person I was twelve. The girl was fourteen or fifteen, and her boobs were probably bigger than my head. I had been trying to get her to take her shirt off for months, and one day I came up with the plan that got the job done.

I stole a box of condoms from the drug store and brought them home, where we sat around blowing them up and putting them on soda bottles. I told her I would try one on and model it for her, “like a fashion show.” She was into this idea, I assume because it was hilarious.

I turned around and stood there for a minute. I wasn’t actually trying to put it on, because I had planned this out days in advance. After a sufficient period of time had passed I turned back to her and said, simply, “I need to see your boobs to get it hard.”

Those were much simpler times. These days to get a girl naked you have to come up with a wicked-awesome MySpace profile design and IM her for like four days.