The Bad Kisser…

I spent several hours a day in front of the mirror practicing the perfect kiss. At fifteen years I had watched enough movies to understand what the fuss was all about when a man and a woman met, liked each other and desperately needed to lock lips and exchange saliva.

I practiced with my favorite movies, ‘Boomerang’ when Eddie Murphy kissed Halle Berry for the first time in his couch. I watched ‘The Body Guard’ sixteen times, I was obsessed with Whitney Houston, and does anybody remember ‘A Prelude to a kiss’? Alec Baldwine and Meg Ryan. I was a kissing junkie. Mind you I only practiced with my mirror. My perfect kiss wasn’t good enough for all those ordinary boys. I was waiting for my prince charming to break my virgin kiss.

By twenty-five I had kissed about an entire class of people. Girls, Boys, Men, rich poor, handsome, ugly… I had found nothing spectacular. My dreams of having the perfect kiss had long dwindled.

Were people just not inspired to learn the art of kissing or I had I just watched too many movies?. I decided it was the former. Bad kissers were my deal breaker. I mean I still dated a few slightly good ones. But I never really cared about kissing them a lot. Which obviously meant I wasn’t that into the person either. Kissing was more intimate for me than lovemaking. And I sought of got that confirmation when I watched ‘Pretty Woman’. You know Julia’s character even though a prostitute refused to kiss her client on the mouth because she regarded that as too intimate. But I realized a lot of men preferred otherwise. It was getting into the real action that excited them. I left it at that.

So whiles I dated the okay kissers I waited for my perfect kisser to come along whiles still trying to give a few kissing lessons to make my situation bearable.

But I swear some of these men couldn’t be helped.

Take that one whose breathe smelt like fried fish… the dude had just had kenkey and fish and he didn’t know he had to gaggle some Listerine or better still get some gum before meeting up with his date.

I didn’t let him come close. I gave an excuse of a slamming headache and bolted. Imagine picking up all that left over fish and kenkey from the contours of his mouth during the kiss. And he won’t shut up too.

And then there was that one who had so much saliva I had to stop myself from puking into his mouth. My God! You’ll think he had a saliva store. It was all over me in seconds, dripping down the corners of my mouth and I could feel myself swallowing. He called me fourteen times after that… I struggled with this one because he was so cute. How could he not have learnt how to kiss being so cute? Didn’t he have sisters or better still didn’t he kiss his mirror?

I told him bluntly he was a bad kisser. He got upset, told me I wasn’t his type anyway and he didn’t really kiss on first dates but I looked so desperate for a kiss he did me a favor. I wasn’t hurt. I was amused and sad. Nobody had had the guts to tell this cute dude he had the sea in his mouth.

David was all right, just like many other Ghanaian men I had come across. He smelt just okay; I would have preferred a great smell… some mint, some Listerine, some mouth spray… kissing is intimate for Pete’s sake I didn’t get why people didn’t put in some real effort. He managed his saliva well, not too much, not too little so that it was too dry to tear our skin.

I wished he softened his lips slightly, let go the muscles. The beauty about kissing is letting the lips do the talking. The pace, the tenderness, and the pull all have to come from the conversation the two lips are having. And they have to pay attention to each other. It’s rhythm. It’s not a boxing match where one has to punch harder to win. David was all over my mouth in seconds. His lips were invading mine; I could feel his teeth every now and then, which bothered me a lot. If he drew blood I would have to stop immediately. And then there was case of the tongue.

I realized very early on in my kissing expedition that most people were just too quick to pull ‘the tongue’. It irked me immensely. The tongue was appropriate when things had gotten really steamy and hot if you know what I mean. It was the deep throaty thing to do when you were about to peel off clothes… and that’s when most girls would say uhmm ‘no this is moving too fast’ or ‘I’ve been waiting for this my entire life’. But you don’t stick your tongue out without purpose. Most times the tongues are just there, doing absolutely nothing. It’s not magic, if you don’t know what to do with it don’t pull it out. Otherwise it becomes like a piece of meat, lying in there, getting in the way of great lip service.

David poked, licked my teeth, my lips, my eyebrows, and basically raped my face.

So the case hadn’t been any different until I met Francis. He was cute but apart from everything else he was a bloody good kisser. We had kissed once and I wasn’t about to let him off my sights. He knew when to nibble my lips, kiss it, tease it, leave it, breathe, come back, and part my lips slowly so his upper lips engulfed my lower one completely. It was heaven. I couldn’t believe my luck. And so I was looking forward to this night like I hadn’t on many dates.

He drove up. I sat in. He kissed my cheeks. I was disappointed but it was going to be a long night so I was prepared to wait.

After the movie we went back to the car, we sat there in the parking lot chatting about the movie. He leaned in and kissed me softly on the lips. I gave in. My… I was kiss drunk. This boy could kiss the hell out of me. And that’s all we did. I couldn’t have enough of him. It felt like I had been thirsty my entire life and suddenly water was dripping down my tongue. I just couldn’t help myself.

Five days later I hadn’t heard from Francis. I was dying. He hadn’t called and hadn’t returned any of mine. Finally he picked up. He was cool on the phone. He said he had been sick… he had blisters on his lips and his face. Basically I had gone crazy that night, sucking the life out of his face.

I was a bad kisser. He couldn’t see me again.

What!!!

“Thelma Louis” is a GhanaCelebrities.Com weekly column with no borders on the speed and distance it will take your imagination, while tackling some of our everyday issues—in reality and in fantasy.

All Thelma Louis’ write up will be filed under her name column-Thelma Louis.