April 18, 2010

A Guest Post by JENNY JAY

Today I’m going to tell you a story that clearly illustrates my sexual pet peeve.  Pay attention boys, this one is for you…

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The conversation over dinner was easy and as we nursed half-empty wine glasses our increasingly flirty banter was punctuated by lots of laughter. So the date, our first one actually, was going very, very well.

After leaving the restaurant we decided to take a stroll to a park near by so we could continue our conversation. We walked, we talked, and then we eventually found a bench to sit on. Once we sat down, I knew the moment I’d been waiting for all evening had finally arrived and I could tell it was going to be just perfect. And then it happened – our first kiss. At first it was great and I marveled at the softness of his lips. But within seconds it began to go horribly wrong. All of a sudden everything was wet, wet, WET!

Why is my face wet? What the hell is dripping from my chin? Christ, it’s his saliva!

For a few moments it seemed as if things were happening in slow motion. His soppy wet tongue glided across my cheek to find my earlobe and covered it in a slimy coat of saliva.

AAAARRRRRRGGGGGHHHHHH!  How does this grown man not know how to kiss?!?!?!

The passionate kiss I had envisioned at the end of our lovely evening together had somehow become a mood killing facial treatment. I tried to distract myself from the grossness of it all by thinking about the potential benefits of his saliva on my skin.

Could the moisture he was providing actually be healthy?

Would his spittle give me a radiant glow?

Might the enzymes in his spit rid my face of acne or fine lines?

But when his tongue started to inch its way towards my eye, I knew I had to get him to stop. I lurched away from him and watched horrified as his tongue flapped about like a fish out of water for more than a few seconds, before he opened his fluttering eyelids to look at me.

“Is something wrong?’” he asked, seeming not to notice my wet cheeks glistening in the moonlight.

“Uh…no, I just thought we should slow things down a bit. After all it’s only our first date. We should save something for later,” I lied, running my hand across my cheek to wipe away the layer of slimy liquid he’d left behind. I was sure he’d see the wetness of my palm and apologize for giving me an impromptu face wash. But he just sat there looking sheepish.

“Oh,” he finally said, “I guess I should take you home then?”

“Yeah, it is getting late,” I said, rubbing my hand dry on front of my pants as I got up off the bench.

When he finally pulled up in front of my house, I made sure I got out of his car without giving him a chance to lay another kiss on me. And as I dashed through my front door, I knew we wouldn’t be seeing each other again.

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Readers, kissing is an art form – one that, in my very humble opinion, everyone over the age of 18 should have down pat. I realize this is a lot to ask, as I’ve had far too many experiences with men who have yet to figure out how to give slobber-free kisses. A little saliva here and there is par for the course, but when your saliva shoots out of your mouth and becomes an uber-icky film covering most of your partner’s face, you have a real problem.

Trust me on this one. It’s a proven fact. Men who can’t kiss rarely get…

LAID.

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