In my many years on this Earth, I have discovered one very disconcerting fact: Many men just do not know how to kiss me.
I am not talking about a kiss on the cheek or the kiss you give an old aunt. I am talking about the romantic kiss, the kind of kiss that curls one’s toes, heats the loins, and sends a mind catapulting off of a cliff. The kind of kiss that so overwhelms that the recipient becomes putty in another’s hands. The kind of kiss that leaves someone utterly shaken, a mere shell of themselves, a quivering puddle of need. The kind of kiss that leaves you desperately wanting more. Yes, that kind of kiss.
I believe kissing is a lost art. Sadly, some seem to be unaware that there are many different types of kisses, among them gentle kisses, deep kisses, passionate kisses, breathless kisses, quick kisses, long kisses, wet kisses, dry kisses, gentle kisses, and stunningly erotic kisses. It is best, of course, to be skilled at a variety of kisses. A broad repertoire keeps things interesting. But more importantly, kissing does not have to lead to anything else, such as the bedroom. Sometimes, I just want to be kissed for pleasure, sometimes I want to be kissed until I destress, other times, I just want to be kissed. Two sets of lips engaged in an erotic dance, tongues exploring, tasting, sharing, can serve a whole lot of purposes!
In high school, they called it “making out.” In college, it was called “PDA” and in adulthood, some call it “foreplay.”
I have written several stories and poems about kisses. I happen to believe they are the essence of passion, seduction, and romance. In the romance anthology, Pieces of Us, by the NuRomantics, for example, I write about the “forever kiss.” The kiss so filled with love and emotion, that you know that even if you never see your partner again, that kiss will be burned into both of your memories.
Yet, very few of the men I have dated understood the importance of the kiss. Many saw it as a means to an end. There were some, for example, who after engaging in a few kisses, believed it was time to head to the bedroom. And others who believed the sharing of lips and tongues was an invitation to paw at my clothing. And still others who believed kissing was a nuisance—unnecessary when in pursuit of an explosive climax. I will admit to breaking up with men who did not know how to kiss me, and I will also admit to marrying one of the few who did.
And while I have relegated this discussion to the sharing of lips, I should point out that there are certainly many other types of kisses that can be planted on other body parts that also provide pleasure. Though I suspect a lack of appreciation for a kiss on the lips is reflective of an inability to bring pleasure with the lips elsewhere.
Obviously, I am very picky about how I am kissed. I am not, for example, thrilled when a man bathes my face with his tongue, forcing me to reach for a tissue to remove the residue. Nor do I appreciate it when a man bites down on my tongue or lips, drawing blood. Nips are fine, leaving teeth marks is just gauche. And I have never been a fan of a man who attempts to kiss me while his mouth is filled with foul-smelling food. That’s just gross. However, I have no doubt that what turns me off probably turns others on. Kissing is clearly an individual preference.
I have dated a number of prominent men in my lifetime, and while my friends and relatives may have seen them as "prime catches," I had to walk away. I could not avoid the truth--no matter how much I liked and respected them, they simply did not know how to kiss me. Maybe that's a bit irrational on my part, but the way I see it, if you're going to be kissing someone for a lifetime, they had better have the skill to keep you interested.
In my opinion, kisses matter. Forget the six-pack, the full head of hair, the fat bank account, the sterling reputation. A man needs to know how to kiss me!