A year ago, give or take, I was hooking up with this guy at a public park in the middle of the night. How we got there doesn’t matter — partially because I forget why we ended up there — but alas, that was the setting. We made out on a park bench for about an hour before this man had the audacity to tell me that he was getting bored.
I remember cocking my head to the side, my brow knitting together in confusion. Surely this boy was not getting bored of me, or of the slightly creepy ambiance we had found ourselves in. When I asked him how he could possibly be bored, he told me that it was because all we were doing was kissing.
Even with his clarification, my confusion wasn’t resolved. Making out is the best thing that humans ever figured out how to do. Kissing, period, is the best thing that has happened to society since men stopped living as nomads and started kissing everyone in their primitive little settlements.
After I voiced my obsession with kissing, the boy made it clear that he did not feel the same way, looking at me as if I admitted to having a foot fetish. Then, he tried to get me to go down on him (still in public!), which is a different story in itself.
Before that fateful night, I assumed that everyone was on the same page as me. Though every sexual and/or romantic act is nice, kissing reigns supreme. Besides the feeling of someone’s lips on yours, there’s a certain versatility that is unmatched by all other forms of affection.
Unfortunately, after telling this guy that if I had to give up every form of affection except kissing, I would, I realized that my assumption could not be further from the truth. After all, not everyone is as well-versed in the art of kissing as I am.
Maybe it’s because I only kiss good kissers, but half of the time, I find that the relentless making out is the best part of a hookup. Lips press to lips, and you’re free to go as fast or as slow as you please. A shy, slow start is sometimes followed by a bout of intensity, and even the sloppiest, most unhinged kisses can have moments of softness.
Yes, even the people that seem hellbent on shoving their tongue down your throat have moments where they let up — I’ve experienced it before. Good technique can be learned quickly, which I find isn’t true of most other acts of affection.
Kissing can be happy and kissing can be sad. A kiss can be a standard greeting, but also a farewell. A kiss can be a big deal or a small one, and can be as enjoyable or terrible as possible, depending on who it’s shared with.
The kiss is a huge “first,” one that few people forget. I still remember my first kiss — eighth grade, with my first boyfriend, at the mall. Though that innocent peck isn’t the best kiss I’ve ever received, it still means a lot to me. I remember brushing it off after, but I was excited. Maybe that was when I first developed an affinity for kissing.
That being said, I’ve kissed random boys in dark, crowded rooms and gained just as much satisfaction afterward. Maybe that makes me a freak, but I don’t really care — I haven’t kissed a boy since November, and I’m stuck sitting on my hands, waiting for the next lucky boy who will receive the pleasure of kissing me.
After all, I know everything about the complex art of kissing.
Virginia Snatch is a student at Cornell University. Comments can be sent to [email protected] The Slip ‘N Slide runs during alternate Sex on Thursdays this semester.