Up until the age of 20 I was forgiving if a guy kissed me and it felt like a vacuum, a probing device, a slobbery dog, or a mouthful of teeth. But I'm mid-twenties now and the guys I'm dating are sometimes mid-thirties and still most of them are in the dark about kissing. I've started to wonder: did they miss the high school parties with Spin The Bottle and Seven Minutes In Heaven? Is it a lack of practice? OR maybe, just maybe, is the problem that they have never been told that they suck (pun intended) at kissing? I have a hunch that many women feel too uncomfortable to address their goobery guys, thus perpetuating the bad kissing cycle. So I have decided to take one for the team and break the cycle myself.
Fred is a 30 year old business teacher. He has his own condo, is attractive, has a good sense of humour, and usually picks up the cheque. Fred is also a horrific kisser. I learned this at the end of our first date. He began the kiss soft and gentle but after a few moments pried my mouth open with his tongue and then thrust it practically down my throat. I have no problem with french kissing, but I can assure you this is not what we were doing. I felt like an alien was probing me. Now, while I usually would have bolted as quickly as possible, I decided to make it my mission to cure him once and for all.
I began with a subtle approach. On the second date when he kissed me and used his lizard technique, I pulled back gently. Then I leaned back in. When he didn't take a hint I decided to be less subtle. Each time I pulled back I also shuddered and winced (this was not completely staged).
The following date I thought we may have made progress, but sure enough Fred's lizard lips were back in action. I decided subtlety was not working so I would have to take it to more extreme measures. As his tongue slid back down my throat, almost hitting my gag reflex I pulled back. "You are a terrible kisser," I announced. When he looked at me shocked, I continued, "I mean really, really terrible." The following five minutes included some hurt feelings, more confusion, but finally acceptance. I began giving Fred a kissing tutorial.
Over the course of a few more dates, I came to realize that Fred was not right for me after all, even though his kissing had improved drastically. We said goodbye and I felt proud, like I had done a small something to better the world. And, I recently found out that a friend just dated him and she brought up what a great kisser he is. I couldn't help but smile with satisfaction because, thanks to me, the dating pool now contains one less lizard lips. Who says honesty isn't the best policy?
