Allow me to start this column off with a personal story. During Christmas break (I refuse to call it winter break; we all must take our stands on something), I attended a women’s basketball game at the Save Mart Center with a female friend of mine. The ‘Dogs were playing Stanford, if memory serves me correctly. My friend and I were having a wonderful time, just laughing and chit-chatting away.

Then, in the second half, the kiss cam came on the big screen above the court.

Let’s pause this story for a moment. I must relay something to you, the reader. I love the kiss cam. Always wanted to be on it. I love it even though it’s repetitive. You have the older couple where the guy has no idea what’s going on and the girl is frantically trying to kiss him. You have the couple that romantically kisses. And then you have the duo that give the overemphatic make out session, amid much applause.

All are crowd-pleasers. What follows was definitely not.

Watching all the couples kiss on the big screen, I suddenly had a sense of dread come over me, as if I was certain to meet my imminent doom. I had a strange feeling that I was about to lose my kiss cam virginity.

Why would I feel this dread if I always wanted to do this, you ask? What I have neglected to tell you thus far is that I went with that girl’s family. Whose father is the pastor of the church I attend. Yep.

We also went with the associate pastor and his family. The entire church congregation, it seemed, was in attendance.

Then, the inevitable happened. On the big screen, for all the audience to see, was my friend and I.

I panicked. Someone told me my face turned as red as the color of the Fresno State sweatshirt I was wearing (balderdash, I say; I might have turned a pinkish hue, but that’s it). I had no idea what to do. I tried to get out of the shot, but the camera panned out to keep me in the picture. I got booed. My friend was laughing. The camera stayed on me for what seemed like eons. Finally, the basketball game mercifully resumed play, forcing the camera back on the action and ending my angst.

The text messages came rapidly. “You blew your chance!” “Come on, Tone!” “HAHAHAHAHAHA.” (The latter I did NOT appreciate).

Then, I started thinking. There should be some set of rules for this situation. And as far as I know, there are none. So, without further ado, here are my kiss cam rules.

Rule no. 1: When sitting next to someone where the kiss is not at least implied, always have a backup plan. Kissing the maiden’s hand is chivalrous. Even better, give the kiss on the cheek. It’s romantic and classy.

Rule no. 2: When sitting next to someone where the kiss is implied, know your strategy beforehand. Will you go in for the kill or give the soft peck? Either works, you just can’t get the two mixed up.

Rule no. 3: If you don’t want to get on the cam, be sure to have a little brother or sister there to take the hit for you. Remember: all people love cute little kids.

Hopefully these rules will help those of you who are ever in my situation to know how to handle it. Better yet, hopefully they help me!