Secret Confessions of a Smart Girl

The other day, a good friend said to me that I am the only person on the planet who would actually talk about the efficacy of a kiss. I’m relatively certain that is not in fact true. I’m sure there are other people who are equally geeky about their sexual experiences and sometimes efficacy is the only logical rating measure. There are times when the categories of “good kiss” and “bad kiss” simply do not apply. When that is the case, the only thing you can do is talk about whether or not the kiss fulfilled its intended purpose.

Which begs the question, what is the intended purpose of a kiss? Is it to express attraction? Establish connection? Create an atmosphere of romance? Arouse and titillate? Encourage a desire for more kissing or other sexual contact? I suppose that, depending on the kiss, it could be any or all of the above or even something else entirely.

I would not claim to be a connoisseur of kisses, but I love kissing. Kissing is, in fact, one of my favorite activities that two people can do with their clothes on. I am, I will even admit, a bit of a kissing whore. I will kiss anyone of whom I am fond and to whom I am even remotely attracted. I will, in certain circumstances, kiss them for hours at a time. As such, although I am not a trained smoochophile, I do know, from experience, what I do and do not like in a kiss. I feel comfortable saying to myself “I like kissing X. X is a good kisser.” or “I don’t like kissing Y. It really does nothing for me.”

So color me completely confused by the fact that the other night, on my second really wonderful date with the person who inspired this post, I found myself rather extraordinarily turned on by a kiss that would not normally have pushed my buttons in any way. It wasn’t a bad kiss, not by any means. It was a kiss that simply had nothing to do with any of my usual barometers of kissing. Still, it melted me, and when it was time for me to leave I didn’t want to go, so I kept requesting one more kiss. It was a very efficient way to delay departure*.

When I spoke to my friend later, to discuss how excited I was that I had gotten to kiss the person in question, she asked me if it was a good kiss, and I paused. I said, “I don’t know, but it was most certainly an effective kiss, if you can judge the efficacy of a kiss by it’s ability to induce physical arousal,” and then she started mocking me.

I stand by my assessment. I kissed a bunch of people the other weekend, all of whom were very good kissers, and it simply reinforced my existing judgement. It was a very effective kiss, and I can not form a simple binary judgement of quality. She who mocked me can kiss my ass

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*”This is making it much harder for me to let you leave,” he said. To which I did not respond, “Yay! I win at life!” My restraint was probably a good thing, since I think that, much to my disappointment, our third date may have been our last. The interest level seems to have waned. Alas! All I want is a nice, smart, funny partner who I don’t have to pretend to be someone else around and whose clothing I can rip off on a regular basis. I am a much happier human being when I am getting regular doses of affectionate contact. You wouldn’t think it would be quite this hard.