Apropos of nothing in particular last night I was thinking about that moment when the man who makes your tummy flip leans in for the magical first kiss. You feel your heart rate quicken and you might even get a little light headed as his lips swoop towards yours all puckered up and ready for action. The kiss is great, everything you could want in a smooch, you’re doing cartwheels of joy and praising the Lord for bringing this man who makes your knickers tingle into your life. But then what?
You come up for air, either gazing into each other’s eyes or looking at the floor and blushing bright crimson at the already lingering memory of that divine moment and then someone has to break the ice by saying something. Now if you’re a sassy switched on chick about town you will know exactly what to say and you’ll sound cool and confident and not like a massive twat. Unfortunately if you’re me you’ll come out with something so brain numbingly cheesy or inane that the nice man shape stood in front of you will be wondering what went wrong.
I know I don’t have to say anything, but I have to say something. I should just smile sweetly and wait for him to go first with a witticism or an observation (as long as it isn’t “you kiss like a washing machine”) but my brain just WILL NOT LET ME. It’s very much a case of open mouth insert foot, or even open mouth and blurt out something moronic that makes you want to DIE (no exaggeration).
There was the time I let out a proper bodice ripper of a sigh and said “I’ve been waiting for that all week” which is quite possibly the uncoolest thing ever said EVER in the history of first kisses. He coughed, shuffled his feet a bit and said “I better go”.
There was the time I giggled and said “Mmm, garlicky” which I thought he’d laugh at but the words and the implication that he tasted like sweaty socks hung between us like a bad (garlicky) smell and there was a snowball’s chance in hell of getting a second snog.
The pièce de résistance though has to be when I had indulged in the perfect first kiss with a very tall very handsome man, he tangled his fingers into my hair, my stomach was doing somersaults and I felt like I was floating. We came up for air and he gave me this utterly beaming perfect white teeth grin, to which I said…
“Can I lick your teeth?”
*edited to add:
He was so taken aback he agreed. I licked his top row of teeth, we both laughed uproariously…… And I never saw or heard from him again.