Kissing

I first saw Pretty Woman a full decade before I became sexually active. I particularly remember that scene where Richard Gere and Julia Roberts go down on a grand piano. Famously, this sex scene lacked any kissing, for Hollywood hookers don’t kiss on the mouth lest they get feelings.

Aged 13 and with no real interest in Julia Roberts, most of my empathy went toward the piano, yet I do remember getting Richard Gere’s frustration for not being allowed to kiss his mistress. I guess even at a young age I intuitively felt kissing is an integral part of sex.

Cut to me, some twenty years later:

I go on Grindr and find myself a twink less than 100 meters away. He says ‘Hi’ and follows up on that with an ass pic… As if I don’t know what ‘Hi’ means.

Proximity is a deciding factor in many gay relationships. This particular twink sends his location after I say ‘Hi’ back. Getting an ass pic-location combo from a cute twink within shouting distance doesn’t happen every day. Truth be told I’m not really in the mood for sex, but I’m even less in the mood for missing an opportunity to get any.

So when this twink asks for a picture of my penis, I send one, along with an extra body pic to sweeten the deal. He replies by giving me his address. I tell him I’ll be there in five minutes.

Three minutes later I find myself in Guy #147’s living room. He’s as cute as his selfie and I infer I’m no disappointment myself, as I’m shown the way to a bed. I make a clumsy attempt at small talk, asking my date what he does for a living. He answers by asking me to stay away from the window. Across the street is a department store Guy #147 happens to work at and he doesn’t want his colleagues to see him having a sex date.

Foregoing further attempts at being sociable I start touching Guy #147. He touches me back, so naturally I head inbound and kiss Guy #147 on the lips. He pulls back immediately.
“I don’t kiss,” Guy #147 tells me bluntly.
“Okay,” I say, trying to remain calm and cool, but I suppose I do a poor job hiding my disappointment. Sex without kissing is like a salad without dressing, a healthy disappointment that leaves you wanting more even after you’re done.

When someone sends you a picture of their naked ass, this generally means said person wants you to insert your penis into said ass. I always assumed that if you’re okay with the whole anal insertion thing, kissing is an integral part of the deal. After all, I use my penis to get intimate. It never occurred to me some people seek anal pleasure without exposing themselves to the affection that makes the whole exercise worthwhile to me.

Guy #147 and I have sex without kissing. I try to turn up the eroticism by moaning my way through it and by changing position every few minutes, acting as if someone is watching and I need to convince that person the two of us are having a good time. I am of course only trying to convince myself my date is not a complete waste of my time and energy. My gut wants to kiss Guy #147, establish the bond we have, but there’s no bond to celebrate. Proximity brought us together. Closeness not so much.

Having sex with Guy #147 is unfulfilling, hot as he is. Even though I get to own nearly every part of his body, I can’t help but feel rejected. As much of a willing bottom Guy #147 is, my ‘Pretty Woman’ comes off as a prude.

Conversely, I have no way of knowing if Guy #147 is having a good time. Without kissing, touching each other’s face and holding each other’s head our sex is almost entirely mechanical. Whatever feelings my date might have, I’m not privy to them.

About 15 minutes into our relationship I decide I’ve had enough and do the only sensible thing: Coming. I give Guy #147 a minute or so to do the same, but with no lip action at my disposal I feel completely inept and ‘disaroused’, a made-up word that perfectly sums up a made-up connection.

Guy #147 and I get dressed and I leave quickly. He will go on to hit me up online a couple of times over the next few years, and while I politely respond to his messages each time he does, I hold off on meeting up with him a second time.

Sex without kissing. It’s as frustrating as playing a grand piano with your butt. Richard Gere, Julia Roberts and Guy #147 taught me that.

Relationship summary:

LENGTH: 2 years and counting
FORMAT: One time sex date followed by highly intermittent online chats that don’t lead anywhere
SEX SCORE (0 = Making out with a grand piano <–> 10 = The best sex ever): 5.5

Our lips are basically a part of our body that’s turned inside-out. That’s what makes kissing so intimate: It’s when our insides touch, connect and shake tongues.

In my experience it’s not uncommon for sex dates to not feature any kissing, for the same reason Julia Roberts refused to kiss Richard Gere throughout Pretty Woman: Kissing a complete stranger mimics the intimacy I believe all human beings both crave and fear. Kissing is a slippery slope.

Personally, I’m a big fan of kissing. Sex is infinitely better when lip-to-lip action is on the menu.

Except in the case of Guy #10.
Not all lips are created equal.

It would be unfair to say Guy #10 was a bad kisser. It’s just that his labial anatomy had completely failed him. That much became clear the moment our lips touched.

From a distance Guy #10’s lips appeared completely ordinary. Only upon first contact did I discover he lacked the capability to move his lips in any meaningful way. They were just there, stiff and motionless, tight and cold, lifeless and dry.

I’m not judging Guy #10. I for one have quite a few incurable genetic setbacks myself: I can’t blink my eyes separately, I can’t make my ears move, I can’t curl up my tongue, I can’t whistle, I can’t get my jaw to make that clicking sound, I can’t separate my ring finger from my middle finger like Dr. Spock. The list of my innate fallacies is endless.

However, lipwise I’m pretty well endowed and to me, kissing is a dichotomous variable. Either you kiss or you don’t.

Except of course in the case of Guy #10.

I imagine kissing a blow-up doll most closely resembles the touch of Guy #10’s lips. I could sense he was trying to keep up with mine, but he didn’t stand a chance. His lips were like a sphinx cat fencing off a T-Rex.
Guy #143 once told me I kiss too fiercely. I think my aggressive kissing philosophy has been a contributing factor in losing many guys over the years. Sometimes I wish I had known before Guy #143 straight out told me my kissing was a bit too much “in his face”. Guy #10 could have benefitted from that.

Apart from his lips being small and cold, perhaps the main reason Guy #10 couldn’t keep up was because he wasn’t looking for any intimacy. I was, even though I wasn’t aware of it at the time. The two of us got along really nicely, had done some pleasant conversational stuff and the sex just flowed naturally from thereon out. I must have felt some sort of connection. I kissed him to seal that connection. He kissed me because it was obligatory foreplay.

We didn’t kiss long. The rest of our date went like clockwork. It would be our only date, though. It was nice to regularly run into Guy #10 at our local gay bar for a while. We shared a nice memory but didn’t feel the need to expand on that. We had both erased ourselves from our to do-lists. I think I could have made him hungry for more if I hadn’t gorged on him so much. Then again, that’s why I wasn’t hungry for more in the first place.

Sadly, it would take me a very long time to realize not everyone likes to be kissed by a T-Rex.

I kissed too eagerly for years at an end. I never consciously entered the gay scene in search of love or something sappy. It took me years to finally learn it’s always been exactly that what’s driven me: Love, or something sappy. I must have unconsciously expressed that feeling in my kissing technique.

Unfortunately, Guy #10’s lips were the opposite of sappy.

I apologize for wreaking havoc on his inside-out.

Relationship summary:

LENGTH: ± 4 years
FORMAT: One-time sex date, followed by a few years of politely greeting each other at random encounters
SEX SCORE (0 = kissing a frog that doesn’t turn into a prince <–> 10 = the best sex ever): 6.5