There has been a thorough appreciation of amazing kissers in the world, but a willful ignorance of those who, by all accounts, are physically incapable of kissing someone in a manner that is enjoyable. This is about the bad kissers of the world, with a little indignant ranting about their introduction into my life.
I had no idea how lucky I was. Up until about a year ago, every guy I’d kissed seemed to know what he was about and this came to be my expectation from anyone with the audacity to invade my personal space—and my mouth. Which I still consider to be reasonable. Sadly, there have been a few guys lately who have fallen far short, and it made me think that these sad specimens of masculinity may be in the majority, running rampant and ruining otherwise lovely evenings. It turns out everyone has encountered bad kissers and yet I had no idea what I was in for with guys who licked my cheek, bit my lip (like really hard—there was a bruise), and made a good try at suffocating me with their tongue. Why would anyone find that fun?
To be fair I can’t be upset that no one has told these people what a menace to romantically inclined social interaction they are because I didn’t say anything either. I was selfishly concerned with the welfare of my face. And yet, I still don’t understand how one makes it to their twenties thinking that this sort of behavior is acceptable. There can’t be anyone who puts up with this kind of thing more than once (I’m a big fan of the “never ever answer your calls” method), which I’d think might lead to a little self-reflection, but apparently not. So, for those persons, when in doubt, keep it simple. You’ve just met this girl. For whatever reason she has tolerated your company for some period of time without excessive trips to the bathroom and people across the room she needs to speak to. Then again, that could be assuming a lot, perhaps you’ve thrown the nearest female up against a handy flat surface, in which case, I have to say from experience, that you really ought to make it worth her while. Either way, your fancy tricks are unappreciated as you are executing them very, very badly to the chagrin of all involved. Thanks for your interest, please move on. I hate to fall back on clichés without a good excuse, or to call any well-meaning gentleman a frog, but if the slime fits …
My future paramours are probably not going to read this warning, but I can only hope that the tide of my romantic luck will change for the better.