Firstborn Greg Brady was the only sibling to lose his virginity in the Brady house, quietly and workmanlike.
For eldest daughter Marcia Brady it was a little more romantic: the open back of an El Camino, moonlight, rough hands, he the size of an ox but sounding like a piglet, she just out of college.
When interviewed, Peter Brady looked around the room evasively, repeating the anecdote about how he kissed a girl for the first time. Eventually, Peter changed topic and asked, “Well, does a handjob count?” before saying he had pets to feed.
Jan Brady — middle child — snuck out of the house one night to meet a boy at a poorly secured television studio. He turned all the cameras away from the set while they made love in a bed; a bed that Jan had seen before, but couldn’t place where.
For youngest son Bobby Brady the location mattered more than the man. It was a parcel of land north of Tucson, Arizona, which he would later buy and turn into the world’s first artificial pot plant hire company.
Baby of the bunch Cindy Brady didn’t so much lose her virginity as vigorously launch it into a roaring, shark-infested ocean. It was in a foreign hotel room with two men — a vacuum salesman and a champion weightlifter — and both a television and arm were broken in the process.