That kiss just happened to me.
A while back, I met a man and I knew from the get-go that he was a salutation kisser: he kisses his female friends in greeting and as a au revoir. I find this tradition to be trčs European, presumptuous and slightly awkward.
Today’s kiss was all of these things, but it was also out of the ordinary.
To begin with, I haven’t seen this gentleman since winter time, and our last visit did not result in a 100 percent amicable departure. Then today, while I was walking home he scooted past me, pulled a u-turn, had me hop onto his Vespa, and drove me the four blocks home. Yet, this is still semi-ordinary.
While I stood on the sidewalk, in front of my house, cordially thanking the man and saying my goodbye, I watched his eyes dart to my midsection. The next thing I knew, he was pulling me to him by way of my belt loop, off the sidewalk, into the street, and almost toppling him, seated on the Vespa, over. (Very elegant and coy on my part.) This does not ring “friend” in my ears.
And then, he drove away. Leaving me on the street to ponder his actions. Which, I think, was his plan all along.
And he has been successful. For I am pondering.
In my pondering, I find myself incensed; his goodbye kiss was audacious. What if I am not a hello/goodbye kisser? What if my boyfriend is the jealous type? Said gentleman does not know the answers to these questions, and frankly, he didn’t seem to care this afternoon. He wanted to kiss me, so he kissed me, or he did his best to kiss me (I sort of missed his lips during the pulling / falling / flailing phase as I was not expecting this motion). All in all, a selfish move on his part.
I appreciate that his actions and his kiss were impromptu, guided by instincts and animalistic desires; but I am far less appreciative that his actions were one-sided. I felt a though I was pounced on. All I would have required were a few lead-in moves as to be prepared; for example, a head tilt, a licking of the lips, a pre-pucker. Just something so that kissing isn’t awkward…and so I don’t miss his lips.
Old fashion? I suppose I am.
Mentally, I place a lot of emphasis on the first kiss (be that first kiss historically or first kiss in a long while). However, first kisses have morphed into close to nothing. I miss the anticipation and hopefulness that I experienced in my formative teenage years when my crush leaned in for the first time. Ever since alcohol became involved in the art of courtship, the intensity of the moment before the first kiss has diminished. The first kiss has become a first meeting / first date expectation rather than a hope. Instead, my last few years of first kisses have been meaningless, for the most part. The first kiss seems to just be a hurdle to jump in order to get on to bigger, better, sweatier things.
Old Motown, doo-wop and rock ‘n’ roll songs insinuate that you can tell a man’s emotions through his lips, through his kiss. I, frankly, have to loudly disagree with this notion. I have encountered a strange breed of grown men who seem not to know how to kiss. If I am meant to decode these snake-like kisses for their overall message, I think something is lost in translation. During and afterward, I am too busy trying to recover from the uncomfortable mouth probing to try to think, “How does he feel about me?”
Specifically, I believe – as do many of my girlfriends – that kisses should be delivered in moderation and variety. That is to say, the speed, the tempo, the vigor and the tongue lunging must be varied. When the kisses are bland, everything else is going to be bland too.
Historically, when I have arrived at this crossroads and had to ask myself: Is the man worth keeping around and training to be a better kisser? Or, is he a total lost cause? In all cases, I have decided to avoid declaring to him, “I am sorry, you are a bad kisser. I cannot do this.” Instead, I have learned to gracefully turn my cheek.
• "A Single Serving" appears second and fourth Mondays every month, exclusively in Lumino Magazine. E-mail Melissa at m.koss@yahoo.com.
