The Art of Kissing!

"Of all the gin joints in all the towns he’s

never walked into mine."

Having never picked the right guy for myself after searching 40 something years, my grandmother insists I’m cursed; I tell myself.... I just haven’t met the right guy.

 

 After all, 40-something is the new 30-something, so they say. Although I don’t know who “They” are, I assume “They” must be over forty. And although I have kissed more than my share of toads, many dashingly disguised as an adorable prince, but I still manage to have hope that someday I will cram my size 8 foot into that damn size 6.5 glass slipper and when it shatters into a million pieces my perfect prince will be there to tell me, “Damn! Sweetheart your ass sure looks hot in those jeans.”

  

Through the years the gene pool has been more than kind to me. Thankfully, I can hold a strong candle to slightly-above-average beauty, and I still manage to turn a few heads, even at my age.

 

I don’t have an Ivy League education, but I’m no dumbed-down, touched-up blonde. I believe there is a lot to be said for us street savvy business women. If you were stranded on a desert island you would definitely want me with you. I can guarantee you -- I would find a way off that island before either of us lost a complete dress size. 

 

I haven’t missed a hair appointment in the past 25 years. Not for the birth of my only niece, not for my 90-year-old neighbor’s funeral, and certainly not because I was stupid enough to get stranded on an island without a hair salon within swimming distance.

 

However, I do fear it’s just a matter of time until all hell breaks loose and down I go -- my chin hanging to my boobs, my silicone torpedoes pointed straight down towards an old gunnysack of cellulite, my knees sagging to my swollen ankles, and I’m most afraid I will one day have to tuck my ass into the back of my knee-high support hose so I won’t trip over it. I anticipate the day I wake up and realize, “Wow, I’m old.” Until then I say, “Ladies, hold your chin up high. That way when your turkey neck sways, at least it sways with confidence!  And keep your sex, spicy and hot, hot, hot!

 

Remember when you were 20 and you loved when you were kissing some little hottie that you just met in a bar. A couple shots of tequila and the next thing you knew he’s got his tongue down your throat like he’s going to rip your tonsils out…But at 20 years old kissing wasn’t the nucleus of hot and horning, the tequila and hormones took care of that. So kissing was just something you did to pass the time until you got to the good stuff.

 

But now days…the kissing better be good. After a hysterectomy good kissing is like the whip cream on the strawberries. Kissing is the battery cables to my slightly sluggish motor.  But a few good kisses, a glass of wine, my estrogen patch, some testosterone gel, a shot of KY jelly and I’m good to go.

 

But I’ve noticed that old people and married couples don’t really kiss. I’m not sure where they lost that part of their relationship. Maybe because good kissing is really truly an art, and I’m grateful I mastered it way back when and I love to kiss. Nothing hotter than a long passionate kiss-Like a kitten chasing the end of a string and never gets tired of it. I love to be kissed by a guy who knows how to smooch.

 

But now at my age, good kissers are hard to come by. Maybe they're lazy, perhaps they should slow down on the little blue pills until they master the art of kissing a girl the way she should be kissed. Slow, soft, and just enough to make her want more.
 

Recently I went out with a guy and after a pretty nice evening, talking and drinking wine, he walked me to my car. Innocently I opened my mouth to say thank you, and that’s when he seized the opportunity. Like a cruise missile he launched his tongue into my mouth. The torpedo hit my pearly whites like he was ready to sink my battleship. “Wow-Slow down G.I. Joe” I said once I caught my breath. But before I could start my car, Torpedo Tongue fired again. This time, I blocked the blow with my cheek… “Awe, I just wanted to give you a nice good night kiss Kristina” He said with a sad pathetic look on his face. “Yes, I detected that when you fired your bazooka down my throat. Personally I prefer a soft tongue teasing approach” I said as I started my car. “Well it was just a tactical error. I’ll do better next time. Lets go to your place Saturday night?” He said as the car waiting for my parking spot honked their horn to hurry us along. “Call me….” He said as I drove away…

  

“Next!” I said to myself as I put my jammies on and crawled in bed alone.