There is nothing I like more than a passionate kiss.
You know the sort. It starts slowly, just tasting each other, gently persuasive it should be firm but not forceful, investigative but not invasive and with enough urgency to make your stomach flip-flop and the butterflies come out to play.
A single kiss is one of the most important things in a relationship or the making of one. If you have a disastrous first kiss you are unlikely to want to want to take things any further because and let’s be honest you can not be intimate without kissing. Many think that kissing is in fact the most intimate part of a relationship and I agree.
I have kissed a lot of men and a few women in my time. It is well documented that I have at some points in my life lived a little fast and loose.
Yet until very recently I had only ever really had one bad kiss and that was an unintentional one, on my part at least.
A long time ago when I was in my late teens, I was at a family party with my then boyfriend, it was late and we were doing the rounds saying goodbye to everyone, as you do. I don’t remember being particularly drunk although my boyfriends brother was a fair few sheets to the wind when he decided that as I was closing in for a quick peck on the cheek by way of a cheerio, he would take the opportunity to put one on me. It was bloody awful and I am being polite.
Awful because it was incredibly awkward, we were practically related, I dated his brother for almost ten years. Granted I was a child for the first half of it but we were in effect childhood sweethearts, I suppose therefore it just felt wrong but worse than that, it was just a horrible kiss. His tongue attacked my mouth as if he thought there might be food particles available in there, it was wet, sloppy and incredibly unpleasant.
Over the weekend I had a very similar experience.
I had a second date…
Now, before you get the bunting out, I should add that it was arranged more from a feeling that I should just try, rather than a feeling of excitement in my knickers.
Our first date was a couple of weeks ago now, he was the one who wasn’t very manly. Nice, seemingly very normal, ok chat but just not exactly up there with presence. I would like to be able to explain it better but it was simply that he didn’t look like he had it in him, I just keep coming back to the word nice.
At 46, I didn’t ever think I would ever be in a situation where a date would not know how to kiss someone. I mean they are all around the same age as me, I’m not dating teenagers here, some of them should have a vast amount of experience, if their stories are to be believed. There not many who do not claim to be great stakes in the bedroom department.
The date itself actually went ok, he seemed more comfortable this time, I suppose we both were. At the end of the date he asked if I wanted to go back to his for coffee, I was more than receptive to this idea, we had seemed to get on quite well actually and in an effort to try to see if this would naturally progress in the right direction, I agreed.
I have not made many mistakes in my online dating career, this was to be my first.
It was not a mistake in the sense that I was worried about my safety or that I was concerned that he would take advantage of me. I’m a big girl, I knew, maybe even hoped that there would be some heavy petting, after all I had agreed in principle to going back to his and was more than happy to try a little tenderness and see what happens…
What happened was nothing short of horrifying.
He launched his attack the moment the coffee cups had been placed on the table, leaning over me and bearing down, mouth open and tongue ready for assault, my first mistake was to open my mouth to protest at which point he took full opportunity to plunge right in. His wet tongue making fast circular motions around the inside of mouth, I couldn’t feel his lips at all, just his tongue licking and poking about. His teeth were grating against my skin and they felt sharp, too sharp. I tried to slow him down, coax him to be more gentle, more sensual but no, he was in full washing machine mode and the spin was about to start.
Placing my hands against his chest I shoved him away and told him to slow the f*** down. He apologised, I accepted and reminded him that he invited me here for coffee, not to eat me alive.
This message only seemed to sink for a few moments at a time though as we went through the same motion for around half an hour (it felt like three days). He launched an attack, I suffered it for a few minutes trying desperately to encourage something a little more sensual, not managing, ending with me shoving him back on the sofa again. *rollseyes
I might not have been worried for my safety but at some points I was worried about his as I was beginning to lose my temper with his complete lack of interpersonal skills.
It surprises me that no one has mentioned to him in all his 46 years, at least 20 of which, he has probably been actively snogging, that he was bloody shocking at it. There was no build up to it, it was just straight in tongue first but the tooth thing well, that was just awful.
When we were talking I never noticed anything unusual about his teeth, they looked perfectly normal and believe me it is something I would normally notice but when we were kissing (I’m not sure what else to call it), it felt like he had razor blades tucked away somewhere. I half expected to taste blood.
A horrible kiss is so disappointing, there is nowhere to go from it. From the moment your lips lock with someone, that is the moment you decide whether or not this has potential. It’s the first kiss for God’s sake, it’s this one, this one pivotal moment decides if it will be a yes or no.
It was a resounding NO.
While I was there and even mid kiss, my thoughts were with Mack, yes he’s still there clogging up the back of my mind somewhere. However, the only reason I thought of Mack is because that man could melt chocolate with his lips. Kissing is not a difficult art form and it is, like most things, a horses for courses sport, what one man loves another man will hate but over all most people have the ability to arouse a certain amount of passion in kiss.
Mack and I though, we moulded together when we were kissing and brief as our encounters may have been, his kisses left a lasting impression. Conversation was not mine and Mack’s forte however, and so despite the fact we agreed that for both of us the kissing thing was mind-blowing, frustration kept me at arm’s length and Mack at a loss of what to say most of the time.
In all fairness I don’t think he needed to say anything, I just wanted him to snog my face off but all that has passed now.
I left slightly dazed and confused about my date. More than a little shocked at how it had all turned out, I just wasn’t expecting it to turn out so badly. Part of me wanted to tell him why and the other part of me just couldn’t be the one to tell him. How do you tell someone that their kisses left you cold?
Part of me wanted to say look just sit still and I will show you how to do it. Do not move, let me do all the work and I will show you what you are supposed to feel, let me guide you, be patient, move slowly and you will get the gist. Do what I do but let me do something, don’t overpower me, don’t force me tease me, make me react to you, we are supposed to be responding to each other but I wasn’t brave enough.
I couldn’t tell him, as much as I wanted to. I just made my excuses and left.
Now, I wish I had told him because even though he wouldn’t have liked it, I mean who would, he would know and despite the fact that he probably would have called me a few names and thrown me out it would have been worth it, for him and for his next date.
On the other hand there is always the chance he could meet an equally bad kisser and live happily ever after, going round and round on spin forever, while I limp on in search of someone with a gentler persuasion.