Kiss and Tell?
February 6, 2004 12:02 PM Subscribe
Do you remember that one kiss, the one that blew your socks off, that changed the world, that put you in a new state of mind? Awkward yet adorable, inevitable, or intense - talk about your favorites.
I knew at that moment I was irrevocably hetero. Very good memory.
posted by nofundy at 12:16 PM on February 6, 2004
posted by nofundy at 12:16 PM on February 6, 2004
We were in her basement late one evening - her parents were upstairs watching TV. Her was my first girlfriend, a Jewish princess who Natalie Portman has nothing on in the looks department.
We were both completely innocent, sheltered first-borns and the byproducts of rigidly religious families - she was my first kiss a few weeks before the evening in question.
But this night was far more special. This night involved open-mouth kissing.
This night came just after her wisdom teeth got pulled . . .
The kiss was long, epic even - and when we finished we broke apart gently and breathlessly she
SCREAMED BLOODY MURDER
*BAM* Her mother came charging down the stairs with thoughts of that horrid ultra-German-American boy raping her Jewish daughter.
Blood. My face was covered with it. *COV-ER-ED* My stomach was full of it. My shame was so great that it even seemed like it was behind my eyes as I saw red everywhere - her face, our clothes.
Sweet Christ.
Not my first kiss, not my best kiss - but hands down now and forever my most memorable.
posted by Ryvar at 12:24 PM on February 6, 2004 [1 favorite]
We were both completely innocent, sheltered first-borns and the byproducts of rigidly religious families - she was my first kiss a few weeks before the evening in question.
But this night was far more special. This night involved open-mouth kissing.
This night came just after her wisdom teeth got pulled . . .
The kiss was long, epic even - and when we finished we broke apart gently and breathlessly she
SCREAMED BLOODY MURDER
*BAM* Her mother came charging down the stairs with thoughts of that horrid ultra-German-American boy raping her Jewish daughter.
Blood. My face was covered with it. *COV-ER-ED* My stomach was full of it. My shame was so great that it even seemed like it was behind my eyes as I saw red everywhere - her face, our clothes.
Sweet Christ.
Not my first kiss, not my best kiss - but hands down now and forever my most memorable.
posted by Ryvar at 12:24 PM on February 6, 2004 [1 favorite]
Reminds me vaguely of the Mayfly Project. It is a shame that there isn't an automated submission form.
On preview: Nice one Ryvar!
posted by shoepal at 12:27 PM on February 6, 2004
On preview: Nice one Ryvar!
posted by shoepal at 12:27 PM on February 6, 2004
less profound, but there's also the public/open diary that kiss.
posted by ifjuly at 12:27 PM on February 6, 2004
posted by ifjuly at 12:27 PM on February 6, 2004
I took a girl named LeNora (seriously) to the movies. I was promised a kiss in exhange for some popcorn and soda.
So I went to the refreshment stand and walked back nervously, just freakin' FULL of excitement. Here it goes folks, my entry into adulthood!
So we locked lips, and I parted mine and did what all my friends had talked about - slipped my tongue into my mouth. She jerked, almost bit my tongue off and pushed me away. "Yuck! You kiss like a stupid movie star!" she yelled.
Needless to say, it was our only date, and I moved on to other girls who were more adept at French.
Best kiss? Every time I kiss my current love.
posted by tr33hggr at 12:32 PM on February 6, 2004
So I went to the refreshment stand and walked back nervously, just freakin' FULL of excitement. Here it goes folks, my entry into adulthood!
So we locked lips, and I parted mine and did what all my friends had talked about - slipped my tongue into my mouth. She jerked, almost bit my tongue off and pushed me away. "Yuck! You kiss like a stupid movie star!" she yelled.
Needless to say, it was our only date, and I moved on to other girls who were more adept at French.
Best kiss? Every time I kiss my current love.
posted by tr33hggr at 12:32 PM on February 6, 2004
I was 18 and dancing on a huge dance floor in a gay club in El Paso, Texas. There were video screens and lights and lots of boogie fog. He kissed me, strong and passionately, during "The Reflex" by Duran Duran.
"Yup, I'm a homosexual," is how I think my brain interpreted all these events, which is why the kiss is so memorable.
posted by WolfDaddy at 12:40 PM on February 6, 2004
"Yup, I'm a homosexual," is how I think my brain interpreted all these events, which is why the kiss is so memorable.
posted by WolfDaddy at 12:40 PM on February 6, 2004
Don't know whether to share the first technical kiss with a girl I liked or the first kiss with a girlfriend... Hmm. Great find.
posted by emelenjr at 12:57 PM on February 6, 2004
posted by emelenjr at 12:57 PM on February 6, 2004
WolfDaddy, I'm offended to the point of nausea!
I mean Duran Duran? You couldn't consummate your man-love to some real music for pete's sake??
posted by jonmc at 1:04 PM on February 6, 2004
I mean Duran Duran? You couldn't consummate your man-love to some real music for pete's sake??
posted by jonmc at 1:04 PM on February 6, 2004
It was 1983! I was in a gay dance club!! I think I didn't have any control over the situation.
I didn't discover Depeche Mode til 1986, all right?
posted by WolfDaddy at 1:13 PM on February 6, 2004
I didn't discover Depeche Mode til 1986, all right?
posted by WolfDaddy at 1:13 PM on February 6, 2004
Depeche Mode?? Even worse!
*thinks wistfully of the 70's Brit Glam era when gay people still knew how to rock out*
[ahem]
Actually back on topic: You ever see the way a girl's face softens just before she lets you kiss her for the first time? Is a woman ever more beautiful than at that moment?
It's almost been more memorable than the kisses in some ways.
posted by jonmc at 1:18 PM on February 6, 2004
*thinks wistfully of the 70's Brit Glam era when gay people still knew how to rock out*
[ahem]
Actually back on topic: You ever see the way a girl's face softens just before she lets you kiss her for the first time? Is a woman ever more beautiful than at that moment?
It's almost been more memorable than the kisses in some ways.
posted by jonmc at 1:18 PM on February 6, 2004
It wasn't my first kiss ever, but it was my first kiss with her. The one I was infatuated with but wouldn't let me touch her for months, due to her religious beliefs. Beliefs which apparently did not stop her from flirting with me constantly, and she was a really talented flirt. She would tease me for months by getting close enough to me to kiss but forbidding me to kiss her -- sheer evil, of course, but I was an infatuated teenager. Then one day, shortly before I was to leave for the summer, she kissed me. I was sitting in the car, she leaning through the window.
The next two hours in my front seat were the among the best hours I've ever had.
posted by callmejay at 1:31 PM on February 6, 2004
The next two hours in my front seat were the among the best hours I've ever had.
posted by callmejay at 1:31 PM on February 6, 2004
We drove to the end of her parents' driveway.
"May I kiss you?" I asked.
"No." She said.
We both cracked up, then kissed.
We've been married 17 years this year.
posted by ZenMasterThis at 1:32 PM on February 6, 2004
"May I kiss you?" I asked.
"No." She said.
We both cracked up, then kissed.
We've been married 17 years this year.
posted by ZenMasterThis at 1:32 PM on February 6, 2004
Well, while I was in high school I was all about Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin, The Who, The Rolling Stones, etc. etc.
Then I came out ... and the transitory nature of gay culture means that all that glam had become synthpop, and I didn't even know there were gay rockers until, ummm, this thread (yeah, that's the ticket, jonmc! That's also the thread that got me to jine up with you MeFi folks). How Judy and Barbra have managed to persevere in our iconography for so long is beyond me; collectively we just don't have the attention span (or the intergenerational communication!) of many other cultures.
Sorry for the derail, just had to spell out just how ignorant I was in the 80s to my own satisfaction. The kiss was still fantastic, though. and spell check suggests "Mafia" for "MeFi")
posted by WolfDaddy at 1:36 PM on February 6, 2004
Then I came out ... and the transitory nature of gay culture means that all that glam had become synthpop, and I didn't even know there were gay rockers until, ummm, this thread (yeah, that's the ticket, jonmc! That's also the thread that got me to jine up with you MeFi folks). How Judy and Barbra have managed to persevere in our iconography for so long is beyond me; collectively we just don't have the attention span (or the intergenerational communication!) of many other cultures.
Sorry for the derail, just had to spell out just how ignorant I was in the 80s to my own satisfaction. The kiss was still fantastic, though. and spell check suggests "Mafia" for "MeFi")
posted by WolfDaddy at 1:36 PM on February 6, 2004
The prison gates swung open, and I kiseed the ground. I was free. Dirt never tasted sweeter. Went to find me a belly warmer.
posted by Slagman at 1:36 PM on February 6, 2004
posted by Slagman at 1:36 PM on February 6, 2004
...I was telling a guy friend that I had decided to break up with my fiance. Upon hearing that he said something along the lines of "Well, I'm going to do what I have been wanting to do for a long time" and then grabbed me and kissed me. I was shocked, but probably not as shocked as all my college suitemates who had walked up just in time to witness it. (To cap it all off the phone rang thirty seconds later and it was the longdistance soon-to-be-fiance.)
The BEST kiss I ever got was the one from my husband on the day he gave me my engagement ring. (It was the first time we'd kissed too.) I still get all tingly when I think of it.
posted by konolia at 1:40 PM on February 6, 2004
The BEST kiss I ever got was the one from my husband on the day he gave me my engagement ring. (It was the first time we'd kissed too.) I still get all tingly when I think of it.
posted by konolia at 1:40 PM on February 6, 2004
To cap it all off the phone rang thirty seconds later and it was the longdistance soon-to-be-fiance.)
Soon to be EX fiance I meant.
posted by konolia at 1:43 PM on February 6, 2004
Soon to be EX fiance I meant.
posted by konolia at 1:43 PM on February 6, 2004
Engagement ring & first kiss at the same time? Whoa!
posted by shoepal at 2:29 PM on February 6, 2004
posted by shoepal at 2:29 PM on February 6, 2004
Outside her house at 2am in the warm, pouring, summer rain.
My tongue in her mouth; her tongue endlessly circling it, like it was the centre of the universe.
(If only she had been on her knees.)
posted by Blue Stone at 2:37 PM on February 6, 2004
My tongue in her mouth; her tongue endlessly circling it, like it was the centre of the universe.
(If only she had been on her knees.)
posted by Blue Stone at 2:37 PM on February 6, 2004
First kiss was nothing, a weird wet oral groping between inexperienced teens. I still remember I had an errant, clinical thought that the whole process was very strange..but not unpleasant.
Best? Laying on the bed, both pretending that we weren't going to have sex. Slowly, agonizingly moving closer, heartbeats literally shaking the mattress. Kiss lasted all night.
posted by elendil71 at 2:53 PM on February 6, 2004
Best? Laying on the bed, both pretending that we weren't going to have sex. Slowly, agonizingly moving closer, heartbeats literally shaking the mattress. Kiss lasted all night.
posted by elendil71 at 2:53 PM on February 6, 2004
I just told this story on another site, but couldn't resist sharing it here: Shortly after my wife and I officially were a couple (after several months of being retarded for each other but too chicken to admit it), we struck out on the long drive to Hawaii Volcanoes National Park.
The eruption was in high gear, and we wanted to see it in person. (We went to the park often, but usually the "flow" was underground and surfaced only as steam.) This encompased several miles up a narrow road to a few thousand feet, then - after entering the park - a long, winding road down the most spectacular cliffsides back to sea level.
By the time we got down there, the sun was starting to set. The purple sky over that landscape was simply indescribable. We hiked out to the end of the road, where the lava had flowed over it, and out onto the lava field. And, we kept hiking, probably further out than we should have.
Eventually, it was dark all around, except for two light sources - a sliver of the moon above, and lava shining between the cracks of impossibly thick sheets of rock stretching out on a shelf a few dozen feet below us. (The effect was a little like this, but less fluid. If it was just like that, we'd probably faint from the heat as our shoes melted.)
Standing as close to the edge as we could, we just snuggled. The ground rumbled in a way that you can probably only hear, or rather, feel, in a place like that. Sub-sub-subsonic, inaudible but also somehow the most overwhelming, low, deep noise you've ever heard. A few hundred yards off, we could hear the ocean crashing against the rocks, but accompanying the stereotypical beach sound effect was the occasional angry hiss of steam as water flowed into a pocket of hot lava.
The air smelled of sulphur. We were getting steamed alive and could only stick around a few minutes. But we got in some good, serious kissing. And before we headed back, I said, "I would go to the ends of the Earth to kiss you."
Yeah, yeah, cheesy, I know. But hey, for all my faults, the woman married me and gave me two great kids. (And it'll be three in August.) So, cheese pays!
But wait, there's more! I answered an online query a couple of years later (I think it was in soc.couples), and to make a long story short, it ended up being written up in an actual book on kissing! "The Art of Kissing," to be exact. No names were used, but the author was nice and sent me a signed copy.
On Preview: Holy crap! Thanks to Amazon's new "Search Inside the Book" thing, you can search the "Art of Kissing" for the word "volcano" and read my one paragraph claim to smooching fame! Woo!
posted by pzarquon at 3:47 PM on February 6, 2004
The eruption was in high gear, and we wanted to see it in person. (We went to the park often, but usually the "flow" was underground and surfaced only as steam.) This encompased several miles up a narrow road to a few thousand feet, then - after entering the park - a long, winding road down the most spectacular cliffsides back to sea level.
By the time we got down there, the sun was starting to set. The purple sky over that landscape was simply indescribable. We hiked out to the end of the road, where the lava had flowed over it, and out onto the lava field. And, we kept hiking, probably further out than we should have.
Eventually, it was dark all around, except for two light sources - a sliver of the moon above, and lava shining between the cracks of impossibly thick sheets of rock stretching out on a shelf a few dozen feet below us. (The effect was a little like this, but less fluid. If it was just like that, we'd probably faint from the heat as our shoes melted.)
Standing as close to the edge as we could, we just snuggled. The ground rumbled in a way that you can probably only hear, or rather, feel, in a place like that. Sub-sub-subsonic, inaudible but also somehow the most overwhelming, low, deep noise you've ever heard. A few hundred yards off, we could hear the ocean crashing against the rocks, but accompanying the stereotypical beach sound effect was the occasional angry hiss of steam as water flowed into a pocket of hot lava.
The air smelled of sulphur. We were getting steamed alive and could only stick around a few minutes. But we got in some good, serious kissing. And before we headed back, I said, "I would go to the ends of the Earth to kiss you."
Yeah, yeah, cheesy, I know. But hey, for all my faults, the woman married me and gave me two great kids. (And it'll be three in August.) So, cheese pays!
But wait, there's more! I answered an online query a couple of years later (I think it was in soc.couples), and to make a long story short, it ended up being written up in an actual book on kissing! "The Art of Kissing," to be exact. No names were used, but the author was nice and sent me a signed copy.
On Preview: Holy crap! Thanks to Amazon's new "Search Inside the Book" thing, you can search the "Art of Kissing" for the word "volcano" and read my one paragraph claim to smooching fame! Woo!
posted by pzarquon at 3:47 PM on February 6, 2004
pzarquon, a search for "volcano" didn't work for me, but a search for "hawaii" did. (pages 9,10, no?)
posted by shoepal at 6:29 PM on February 6, 2004
posted by shoepal at 6:29 PM on February 6, 2004
About two years ago this week, I had an idea that I'd like to set a scene for myself, enact it, and anchor the moment in my memory. Anchoring is an old Neurolinguistic Programming trick.
Certain smells, for instance, trigger memories. For me, the smell of CKOne reminds me a girl I knew in college whom I had a crush on. She showed up at the school paper office one day, and we had a long talk about nothing, very friendly, and she was wearing CKOne. Because of who she was, my senses were heightened at the time, so when I smelled that, my memory associated CKOne with her. Now, any time I smell it, I flash on her face. Didn’t do anything to help alleviate the crush.
With a little practice, you, well, for purposes of this story, I, can learn how to throw anchors onto yourself. Set the moment, get wrapped up in it, and find yourself lost in it. Associate some part of that moment with whatever the external unexpected stimulant is.
I figured I’d try it, what the hell. Screwing with the wiring of my brain without the use of drugs? That’s right up my alley.
I determined that what I wanted was to try to capture a moment of perfect beauty.
The moment of perfect beauty had to have all five senses accounted for. Having an experience that calls on all five senses is rare outside of the dining room, actually. It's not often that you're using your sense of taste at the same time as sight or sound. I wanted this anchor, I wanted to know that I could always reach into my memory and pull out this one sensory moment.
One moment of perfect beauty is the perfect kiss. Two people, one moment, all five senses engaged - the taste of her lips, the smell of our sweat, the sight of her in front of my face, the touch of her breasts on my chest through the fabric of her shirt, and the sound of a song in the background.
I set the stage as best I could. The music was about all I could do. I picked the song I wanted to try this on, and started the song before.
“I have a strange question” I told her.
“Yeah?”
“Can I kiss you? For the duration of this song.”
“Of course.”
It was only a strange question because of the song.
The song was “why does my heart feel so bad.”
The moment was perfect. Tender, sweet, and at the same time, passionate. Not precisely attacking one another, but not gentle, either. I opened my eyes, and saw hers as we kissed. I smelled us together. In the background, the song I chose got to the good part. And then past the good part, and to the end. I said thank you, and we went about our night.
A week later, a quiet night home alone, and I tried triggering the anchor. Threw on my headphones, and suddenly, I was back. I was kissing the girl again, and I was in my moment of perfect beauty. Those scenes in movies, when your emotions start to well up against your will, and you tell yourself "hey, it's only a movie, stop crying" - the feeling was a lot like that, only with a feeling of perfect wonderful tranquility instead of tears. Part of my mind knew that she wasn't there to kiss. Part of my mind was willing to suspend the disbelief because it felt good. I've been listening to the song tonight. It still feels good.
posted by swerdloff at 7:58 PM on February 6, 2004 [1 favorite]
Certain smells, for instance, trigger memories. For me, the smell of CKOne reminds me a girl I knew in college whom I had a crush on. She showed up at the school paper office one day, and we had a long talk about nothing, very friendly, and she was wearing CKOne. Because of who she was, my senses were heightened at the time, so when I smelled that, my memory associated CKOne with her. Now, any time I smell it, I flash on her face. Didn’t do anything to help alleviate the crush.
With a little practice, you, well, for purposes of this story, I, can learn how to throw anchors onto yourself. Set the moment, get wrapped up in it, and find yourself lost in it. Associate some part of that moment with whatever the external unexpected stimulant is.
I figured I’d try it, what the hell. Screwing with the wiring of my brain without the use of drugs? That’s right up my alley.
I determined that what I wanted was to try to capture a moment of perfect beauty.
The moment of perfect beauty had to have all five senses accounted for. Having an experience that calls on all five senses is rare outside of the dining room, actually. It's not often that you're using your sense of taste at the same time as sight or sound. I wanted this anchor, I wanted to know that I could always reach into my memory and pull out this one sensory moment.
One moment of perfect beauty is the perfect kiss. Two people, one moment, all five senses engaged - the taste of her lips, the smell of our sweat, the sight of her in front of my face, the touch of her breasts on my chest through the fabric of her shirt, and the sound of a song in the background.
I set the stage as best I could. The music was about all I could do. I picked the song I wanted to try this on, and started the song before.
“I have a strange question” I told her.
“Yeah?”
“Can I kiss you? For the duration of this song.”
“Of course.”
It was only a strange question because of the song.
The song was “why does my heart feel so bad.”
The moment was perfect. Tender, sweet, and at the same time, passionate. Not precisely attacking one another, but not gentle, either. I opened my eyes, and saw hers as we kissed. I smelled us together. In the background, the song I chose got to the good part. And then past the good part, and to the end. I said thank you, and we went about our night.
A week later, a quiet night home alone, and I tried triggering the anchor. Threw on my headphones, and suddenly, I was back. I was kissing the girl again, and I was in my moment of perfect beauty. Those scenes in movies, when your emotions start to well up against your will, and you tell yourself "hey, it's only a movie, stop crying" - the feeling was a lot like that, only with a feeling of perfect wonderful tranquility instead of tears. Part of my mind knew that she wasn't there to kiss. Part of my mind was willing to suspend the disbelief because it felt good. I've been listening to the song tonight. It still feels good.
posted by swerdloff at 7:58 PM on February 6, 2004 [1 favorite]
My husband was, and is, the best kisser I have ever had the pleasure to osculate (with?). Every time we kiss, it reminds me how happy I am I married him.
posted by Lynsey at 8:54 PM on February 6, 2004
posted by Lynsey at 8:54 PM on February 6, 2004
I don't remember my first kiss. (Shows how memorable it was, huh?) I do remember the first kiss I had with my last girlfriend.
We had been flirting for a couple of months, kind of hinting around that we were interested in each other. One night, we sat around on her sofa, talking about it, but not really talking about it. We talked and laughed for hours, and then at one point she said something that made me laugh so hard I snorted a little. She said, "Oh, that was so cute I can't stand it," put her hands on either side of my face, and started kissing me. We stayed like that, kissing on the sofa, until the sun came up.
P.S. WolfDaddy, I think your story is my favorite. Besides, there's nothing wrong with Duran Duran! Or Depeche Mode. Hee.
posted by bedhead at 9:23 PM on February 6, 2004
We had been flirting for a couple of months, kind of hinting around that we were interested in each other. One night, we sat around on her sofa, talking about it, but not really talking about it. We talked and laughed for hours, and then at one point she said something that made me laugh so hard I snorted a little. She said, "Oh, that was so cute I can't stand it," put her hands on either side of my face, and started kissing me. We stayed like that, kissing on the sofa, until the sun came up.
P.S. WolfDaddy, I think your story is my favorite. Besides, there's nothing wrong with Duran Duran! Or Depeche Mode. Hee.
posted by bedhead at 9:23 PM on February 6, 2004
*claps*
Bravo. Great stories, one and all.
And wolfey, there ain't a damn thing wrong with Duran Duran, and don't let anyone else tell you otherwise.
posted by Ynoxas at 10:59 PM on February 6, 2004
Bravo. Great stories, one and all.
And wolfey, there ain't a damn thing wrong with Duran Duran, and don't let anyone else tell you otherwise.
posted by Ynoxas at 10:59 PM on February 6, 2004
Ynoxas, jonmc is going to make vaguely satanic gestures at you in a few minutes.
Just so you know...
posted by Ptrin at 11:22 PM on February 6, 2004
Just so you know...
posted by Ptrin at 11:22 PM on February 6, 2004
Children of the 80s UNITE! Not all of us were as cool as John Cusak, you know.
I was cool like John Bender cool, and I have the half-carat diamond stud earring to prove it. Bein' bad ... feels pretty good, eh?
posted by WolfDaddy at 12:38 AM on February 7, 2004
I was cool like John Bender cool, and I have the half-carat diamond stud earring to prove it. Bein' bad ... feels pretty good, eh?
posted by WolfDaddy at 12:38 AM on February 7, 2004
First kiss? Don't remember.
Ask me about my first sexual escapade sometime, though. Now that was fun, if somewhat frustrating.
posted by stavrosthewonderchicken at 1:16 AM on February 7, 2004
Ask me about my first sexual escapade sometime, though. Now that was fun, if somewhat frustrating.
posted by stavrosthewonderchicken at 1:16 AM on February 7, 2004
I'll repost my most memorable kiss from a simliar thread almost exactly 2 years ago:
During my sophomore and junior year of college I met a woman and sparks flew between us. Since we were both in long-term relationships, nothing happened despite very intense chemistry.
Then, during my senior year, she and I crossed paths again, and went out. Only once, and I don't remember the date at all. I do remember that it started raining (very cold) as she kissed me. Just one kiss, but I swear it seemed like an hour. I could feel the rain on my hair and clothes, and we were both soaked. And those things faded out as it kept going. The whole world faded away during that kiss. It wasn't rough, or hurried, or anything like most of what I had experienced before. It was soft, sexy and intense. And it kept going.
After it was over, she went inside and I went back to my car. My teeth were chattering and I could see my hands shaking with the cold, but I was warm all over... Talk about bringing shivers back.
posted by Irontom at 5:12 AM on February 7, 2004
During my sophomore and junior year of college I met a woman and sparks flew between us. Since we were both in long-term relationships, nothing happened despite very intense chemistry.
Then, during my senior year, she and I crossed paths again, and went out. Only once, and I don't remember the date at all. I do remember that it started raining (very cold) as she kissed me. Just one kiss, but I swear it seemed like an hour. I could feel the rain on my hair and clothes, and we were both soaked. And those things faded out as it kept going. The whole world faded away during that kiss. It wasn't rough, or hurried, or anything like most of what I had experienced before. It was soft, sexy and intense. And it kept going.
After it was over, she went inside and I went back to my car. My teeth were chattering and I could see my hands shaking with the cold, but I was warm all over... Talk about bringing shivers back.
posted by Irontom at 5:12 AM on February 7, 2004
I remember when I first realized that kissing was a form of communication.
I thought - I understand now! Ah, kissing! Yes, of course - kissing. Before that it was just lip-mashing. That was with a girl.
Then I kissed a guy and things got infinitely more complex and simple all at the same time.
posted by ao4047 at 6:00 AM on February 7, 2004
I thought - I understand now! Ah, kissing! Yes, of course - kissing. Before that it was just lip-mashing. That was with a girl.
Then I kissed a guy and things got infinitely more complex and simple all at the same time.
posted by ao4047 at 6:00 AM on February 7, 2004
Ynoxas, jonmc is going to make vaguely satanic gestures at you in a few minutes.
Just so you know...
Thanks for the head's up. But I'm down with his precious Dio. I think Holy Diver should be a requisite of any music enthusiasts collection just for completeness if nothing else.
That was the very first album cover that I stood in the record store and stared at wondering "How did this ever get printed".
Then there was the post-rape Guns N Roses t-shirt and I just really didn't worry about such things anymore.
posted by Ynoxas at 6:46 AM on February 7, 2004
Just so you know...
Thanks for the head's up. But I'm down with his precious Dio. I think Holy Diver should be a requisite of any music enthusiasts collection just for completeness if nothing else.
That was the very first album cover that I stood in the record store and stared at wondering "How did this ever get printed".
Then there was the post-rape Guns N Roses t-shirt and I just really didn't worry about such things anymore.
posted by Ynoxas at 6:46 AM on February 7, 2004
God was I in love with fucking Axl and Slash. Do fantasies about kisses count? Coz that sweet SWEET clarion synthpop-killin' riff of "Sweet Child o'Mine" makes me all moist and in the kissing mood. G'n'R killed the 80s so sweet, didn't they? I'd kiss them right damn now, with tongue, if it weren't for "Kid Notorious". I hate icons that refuse their icon status.
posted by WolfDaddy at 6:52 AM on February 7, 2004
posted by WolfDaddy at 6:52 AM on February 7, 2004
____________________________________________
Kissing to deflate the tires.
My first kiss, an evasion of Christ
I was twelve when I found Jesus - through the efforts of a Christian song-and-dance troop which swept through the Methodist summer camp I was at and put on a musical, "Godspell" and "Jesus Christ Superstar" influenced dog-and-pony show. I was taken, smitten. They waved their hands and did a little dance, and in a whoof and a puff of smoke, I was saved. They gave me a Bible which I read for ten minutes that night and then put under my camp cot - and then I promptly forgot about the Bible and the Born Again - ness, next day, for flirting with a girl. Soemone told me she thought I was cute. I guess I was, though not especially perceptive. But still, I screwed up my courage and kissed her, my first kiss. It wasn't much - just a little peck really. Then, for reasons still somewhat unclear to me, I didn't kiss another girl for nine years.
Not kissing, due to Bog Men
It almost happened again to me once, at sixteen, from a rare invitation to one of those "truth or dare" game sessions which I think have thankfully now dropped out of the culture : tell the truth, or take the dare. In retrospect, this was probably engineered by the girls to get to kiss my male friends or I. We put them off though - on my part, I think, by talking of my intellectual, reading interests. One these concerned the phenomenon of "Bog Men" - victims of stone-age ritualistic religious sacrifice, or criminals perhaps, thrown into peat bogs thousands of years ago, who had been preserved remarkably well by the extreme PH of the water. Researchers are still pulling these things out of bogs - bronzed and leathery mummified corpses, death agonies still written on their faces. I found the whole thing quite fascinating and could talk about it in considerable detail. But regaling fifteen year old girls with tales of Bog Men does not often earn kisses.
My second kiss and an odd proposition.
I was living in a university dorm and the sister, of a female student I knew there, had come to visit and taken a fancy to me - but we had not kissed or flirted or, for that matter, even talked much. One day soon after, my friend - who, by the way, I had told that I was a virgin - relayed on odd proposition : "My sister ______ really thinks you're cute. She wants to sleep with you."
OK, I thought : "Thank God....I might as well just do it." ______ lived about a hundred miles away, and I went to visit on a weekend. Her sister was there as well - to provide the social lubrication, I suppose. We all drank Sambucca and smoked cigarettes for a while. At a certain stage of light intoxification, my college friend sensed an appropriate moment and put on a coy tone to manage things - "well, don't you think it's time for you and _____ to go upstairs ?" And so we did.
Kissing to deflate the tires
That affair didn't last long, but it was a necessary evil, I guess. Some years and quite a few girlfriends later, I proposed to my wife in a Baltimore bar, over fat American style Maki rolls - tuna and salmon - and good locally brewed beer. The proposition was direct, the reaction succinct ; "Will you marry me?" - "Of course", she said. And that was that.
But, as we left the bar, a rather new BMW convertible zoomed up and parked illegally immediately outside. Two perfectly groomed and burnished young men clad in tan slacks, polo shirts, and loafers hopped out and strode in. I would now not be nearly so quick to judge, but at they time they seemed to perfectly characterize the arrogance of assumed prerogatives inherent to a certain economic class on the way up, sleek, already annealed by large denomination bills, their life's energies perfectly attuned to fortunes to be won by stamping prefabricated consumer experiences on the world, or from the Enron's and DotComs that Fin de Siecle. The BMW boys may have even been doing something genuinely useful, for all I knew.
But the car bugged me. There it was, emblematic. "Let's sit down here and kiss", I asked my newly betrothed. "Sure", she said - and we sat down next to one of the tires of the convertible, neatly obscuring the view of what I was up to and - I suppose - I could have been criticized for not being completely in the moment, fully engaged in the kissing. That's not really true though, for all I needed to do was unscrew the air-filler cap to that convertible's tire, and depress the valve stem ; then, I could turn back to a long delicious kiss that went on and on until all the air had run out of the tire. When that was done, I asked my future wife, "Why don't we go over and kiss by that other tire?"
I thought that the owners inside the bar were probably beginning a night on the town designed to culminate in picking up two women at one of the new meat-market sports bars springing up around the area. They seemed that type, and so they wouldn't be very intoxicated yet as they exited the bar - it was merely the first stop of the night. But I wasn't taking chances. It was necessary - for reasons of safety - to deflate all four tires so that the situation would be obvious even to drunks. The car would barely even move with four flats. And so we moved around the vehicle, kissing and letting all of the air out of it's tires. We started with the curbside tires and then moved around to the streetside tires. The bar was busy enough - a Friday night - but no none of the patrons coming and going noticed or cared. We finished up, and walked home, arm in arm.
I have had much better kisses, sure. The newest is often the best and flows into my memories of deep, fluid kissing grown oceanic. But that one was probably the most memorable - as the mischievous kissing I should have done long before then : sneaky, impish kissing, kisses with a shared understanding, kisses to mask a hidden secret.
posted by troutfishing at 9:43 AM on February 7, 2004
Kissing to deflate the tires.
My first kiss, an evasion of Christ
I was twelve when I found Jesus - through the efforts of a Christian song-and-dance troop which swept through the Methodist summer camp I was at and put on a musical, "Godspell" and "Jesus Christ Superstar" influenced dog-and-pony show. I was taken, smitten. They waved their hands and did a little dance, and in a whoof and a puff of smoke, I was saved. They gave me a Bible which I read for ten minutes that night and then put under my camp cot - and then I promptly forgot about the Bible and the Born Again - ness, next day, for flirting with a girl. Soemone told me she thought I was cute. I guess I was, though not especially perceptive. But still, I screwed up my courage and kissed her, my first kiss. It wasn't much - just a little peck really. Then, for reasons still somewhat unclear to me, I didn't kiss another girl for nine years.
Not kissing, due to Bog Men
It almost happened again to me once, at sixteen, from a rare invitation to one of those "truth or dare" game sessions which I think have thankfully now dropped out of the culture : tell the truth, or take the dare. In retrospect, this was probably engineered by the girls to get to kiss my male friends or I. We put them off though - on my part, I think, by talking of my intellectual, reading interests. One these concerned the phenomenon of "Bog Men" - victims of stone-age ritualistic religious sacrifice, or criminals perhaps, thrown into peat bogs thousands of years ago, who had been preserved remarkably well by the extreme PH of the water. Researchers are still pulling these things out of bogs - bronzed and leathery mummified corpses, death agonies still written on their faces. I found the whole thing quite fascinating and could talk about it in considerable detail. But regaling fifteen year old girls with tales of Bog Men does not often earn kisses.
My second kiss and an odd proposition.
I was living in a university dorm and the sister, of a female student I knew there, had come to visit and taken a fancy to me - but we had not kissed or flirted or, for that matter, even talked much. One day soon after, my friend - who, by the way, I had told that I was a virgin - relayed on odd proposition : "My sister ______ really thinks you're cute. She wants to sleep with you."
OK, I thought : "Thank God....I might as well just do it." ______ lived about a hundred miles away, and I went to visit on a weekend. Her sister was there as well - to provide the social lubrication, I suppose. We all drank Sambucca and smoked cigarettes for a while. At a certain stage of light intoxification, my college friend sensed an appropriate moment and put on a coy tone to manage things - "well, don't you think it's time for you and _____ to go upstairs ?" And so we did.
Kissing to deflate the tires
That affair didn't last long, but it was a necessary evil, I guess. Some years and quite a few girlfriends later, I proposed to my wife in a Baltimore bar, over fat American style Maki rolls - tuna and salmon - and good locally brewed beer. The proposition was direct, the reaction succinct ; "Will you marry me?" - "Of course", she said. And that was that.
But, as we left the bar, a rather new BMW convertible zoomed up and parked illegally immediately outside. Two perfectly groomed and burnished young men clad in tan slacks, polo shirts, and loafers hopped out and strode in. I would now not be nearly so quick to judge, but at they time they seemed to perfectly characterize the arrogance of assumed prerogatives inherent to a certain economic class on the way up, sleek, already annealed by large denomination bills, their life's energies perfectly attuned to fortunes to be won by stamping prefabricated consumer experiences on the world, or from the Enron's and DotComs that Fin de Siecle. The BMW boys may have even been doing something genuinely useful, for all I knew.
But the car bugged me. There it was, emblematic. "Let's sit down here and kiss", I asked my newly betrothed. "Sure", she said - and we sat down next to one of the tires of the convertible, neatly obscuring the view of what I was up to and - I suppose - I could have been criticized for not being completely in the moment, fully engaged in the kissing. That's not really true though, for all I needed to do was unscrew the air-filler cap to that convertible's tire, and depress the valve stem ; then, I could turn back to a long delicious kiss that went on and on until all the air had run out of the tire. When that was done, I asked my future wife, "Why don't we go over and kiss by that other tire?"
I thought that the owners inside the bar were probably beginning a night on the town designed to culminate in picking up two women at one of the new meat-market sports bars springing up around the area. They seemed that type, and so they wouldn't be very intoxicated yet as they exited the bar - it was merely the first stop of the night. But I wasn't taking chances. It was necessary - for reasons of safety - to deflate all four tires so that the situation would be obvious even to drunks. The car would barely even move with four flats. And so we moved around the vehicle, kissing and letting all of the air out of it's tires. We started with the curbside tires and then moved around to the streetside tires. The bar was busy enough - a Friday night - but no none of the patrons coming and going noticed or cared. We finished up, and walked home, arm in arm.
I have had much better kisses, sure. The newest is often the best and flows into my memories of deep, fluid kissing grown oceanic. But that one was probably the most memorable - as the mischievous kissing I should have done long before then : sneaky, impish kissing, kisses with a shared understanding, kisses to mask a hidden secret.
posted by troutfishing at 9:43 AM on February 7, 2004
( Damn typos. )
posted by troutfishing at 9:48 AM on February 7, 2004
posted by troutfishing at 9:48 AM on February 7, 2004
My husband was, and is, the best kisser I have ever had the pleasure to osculate (with?). Every time we kiss, it reminds me how happy I am I married him.
I feel the same way about your husband!
posted by mcsweetie at 2:39 PM on February 7, 2004
I feel the same way about your husband!
posted by mcsweetie at 2:39 PM on February 7, 2004
My first kiss was technically rehearsal for a drama class assignment back in high school. I later found out she purposefully finnagled herself into my group for the sole purpose of getting to be the one to kiss me. Back then I thought all women found me ugly and stupid. One of them did not, but my assumption later clouded the potential for that relationship. I assumed she took me as a joke. Then she kissed me, and I realized too late that ..well, she wasn't joking.
I don't like remembering my first kiss, because for that one girl I wasn't ugly and stupid on the outside, but I revealed myself to be that on the inside. Rejection and bitterness have a tendency of doing that, if you're not careful. When the girl who doesn't want to reject you shows up, you're so used to being rejected that you end up rejecting her. Kinda hard to explain. Even harder to live with.
I tell myself that my first kiss technically doesn't count. I've had better kisses since, but they're always bitter sweet; tainted by the first one. Truth is, my first kiss didn't count when it really should have. The first of many regrets, I suppose.
posted by ZachsMind at 12:07 AM on February 8, 2004
I don't like remembering my first kiss, because for that one girl I wasn't ugly and stupid on the outside, but I revealed myself to be that on the inside. Rejection and bitterness have a tendency of doing that, if you're not careful. When the girl who doesn't want to reject you shows up, you're so used to being rejected that you end up rejecting her. Kinda hard to explain. Even harder to live with.
I tell myself that my first kiss technically doesn't count. I've had better kisses since, but they're always bitter sweet; tainted by the first one. Truth is, my first kiss didn't count when it really should have. The first of many regrets, I suppose.
posted by ZachsMind at 12:07 AM on February 8, 2004
That's one painful kiss.
posted by troutfishing at 12:56 AM on February 8, 2004
posted by troutfishing at 12:56 AM on February 8, 2004
Kissing is prologue, epilogue, or synopsis. Gimme a long, luxurious hug, a reassuring fondle, lingering eye contact, meaningful conversation, your hand to hold, or the grand act itself - but I'll pass on those humid little puffs of emotional shorthand - and don't even get me started on those damp, synthetic, frothy, face-cramping lip-locked marathons...
posted by Opus Dark at 3:22 AM on February 8, 2004
posted by Opus Dark at 3:22 AM on February 8, 2004
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