‘You must remember this
A kiss is still a kiss…
It’s still the same old story
A fight for love and glory.’
– As Time Goes By, Dooley Wilson
I love kissing. I love kissing so much that I easily forget my general dislike of public displays of affection in order to kiss as often as possible. Kissing is both casual and intimate at the same time, like the right squeeze of a hand or a touch on the arm. Even the lightest kiss can express a depth of feeling far larger than it should. Kisses give me goosebumps, kisses make me smile. Kissing is so simple, but it makes me really happy. I love to kiss until I forget to breathe, until my lips are sore, until I am weak with need. Oh yes, I love kissing.
I usually decide if I want to kiss someone before I’ve thought about whether I want to fuck them. It can make or break a date, and thinking of this has reminded me of two similar first dates where the kiss proved to be very telling!
Both dates went very well; we met for drinks and conversation was easy and flirty. We shared enough interests to really talk but there were enough differences to be explored that it wasn’t boring. In both dates, time flew by and it got really late before I knew what was happening. But in one date, all I could think about was kissing him. I would look at him as he talked and imagine his lips on mine, wondering what he might taste like. Walking back to the tube, with every step I wondered if he was going to kiss me or if I should kiss him myself. When we did kiss, it took my breath away and left me panting for more.
In the other date, his kiss caught me completely by surprise! In a similar way, we’d walked back to the tube together, chatting and laughing, but when he kissed me, I wasn’t expecting it. I didn’t exactly step back from the kiss but equally I didn’t melt into him or start imagining more than just kisses. It wasn’t a bad kiss, but I hadn’t wanted to kiss him. It was confusing. I hadn’t expected to react so strongly against his kiss when I enjoyed his company so much, so I agreed on a second date to check if my initial reaction had been wrong. As before, we got on really well but I spent most of that date hoping that he wouldn’t try to kiss me again. It was pretty telling! Unfortunately, he was quite surprised when I then said I didn’t want to see him again. It got quite awkward…
I love talking to my friends about their dates, particularly my housemate. She’s absolutely brilliant, has very high standards, a low tolerance of fools and no concerns about speaking frankly. She’s fab! She often comes back from dates complaining that they were stupid or dull or, with surprising frequency, ‘the worst person in the world.’
But I still always ask if she wanted to kiss her dates whether she judged them or ridiculed them or praised them. A perfect date with a perfect person is all very well, but if she still didn’t want to kiss him then maybe that worst person in the world who she couldn’t stop kissing is more worthy of a second date.
Is a kiss just a kiss? Not for me.
The kiss is the gatekeeper; I might kiss you as a taste, as a trial. I might kiss you to gauge my reaction, to see if my body wants you as much as my mind does. And once I know, I will kiss you over and over, until I have kissed every inch of your skin. I will kiss you to tell you what I can’t put into words, I will kiss you because I can’t not kiss you, I will kiss you because I can and because I want to and because, damn, it just feels so good…