Dating Bradford: It's In His Kiss

The phone rang, waking me into a hangover at noon. "Rise and shine, baby," came the voice of my ex-boyfriend Cleat, calling from the other coast for our coffee catch-up. We talked about our latest conquests, his new boyfriend candidate and my recent dating debacles.

"But no one kisses like you," he told me, "Well, there was this one boy in Amsterdam, but you're still this continent's kissing king."

The kissing quotient is a dealbreaker for both of us, so when Cleat and I rate our dates, it's always on how well they kiss.

"I had to train the Russian how I like it," said Cleat, "And he still starts out tight-lipped until we're in the throes, then it's full tongue."

I couldn't boast of my recent Romeo's kisses, however; he just wasn't a masher. "Perhaps after a few dates his lips will lube up," I said in a hopeful tone. "But how long do I wait?"

"You don't wait," said Cleat. "You do something about it."

"Like what, write a column?" I joked. "But seriously, what are the dating protocols for initiating a step-by-step? Or should I just send them a YouTube link to Will Powers: Kissing With Confidence ?"

"Sometimes you can't train 'em," said Cleat. "Some guys just don't like to kiss." It was a harsh reality, but I had to admit it rang true. I've had beak-billed boyfriends in the past, and no matter how much I loved them, I was still battling turtle tongue.

"It has to be organic," Cleat continued, "like an animal in itself, with a rhythm of its own. Shoop Shoop, baby, it's in his kiss."

"OK, now you're channeling Cher meets dead Aussie alligator man" I said. "But I agree with your Wild Kingdom theory. However, it goes beyond the physical. It's not just a matter of the way we kiss, it's the connection we share (Cher)."

"Kissing is like relationship glue. It's chewing gum on the sidewalk and your new Kenneth Coles. It's bungee cords holding the mattress on your car. It's fresh KY, for fuck's sake, it's important to me."

But is it important to everyone? And if so, why don't we ask, "Do you like to kiss?" as openly as, "Are you a top or bottom?" If he answers, "Sometimes," you might be in for a little night school. It's like when a close friend says, "Honey, you need a mint," when you've been talking closely to people at a loud party all night. "Oh, God," you think, "Why didn't anyone tell me earlier?" So why don't we tell our dates, "You suck at kissing?"

Ask yourself: Is a kiss "a gentle or passionate touch with the lips" or possibly "A small piece of soft candy, individually wrapped in foil?"

"I like malleable lips," I said to my lesbian neighbor Jean, "Fatty tuna-sashimi lips. Flan. I want to curl up in his oral duvet and fall asleep in his soul.

"You might be asking too much," said Jean. "I've been taking a poll for six years and it's shocking how many people don't like to kiss."

"I don't kiss tricks," said radical faerie Moonshine last weekend at Camp Destiny in Vermont. "Too intimate. Even when we have three-ways, I only kiss my boyfriend. I'd put a dick in my mouth before someone's tongue."

Yeah, pretty woman, you and Julia Roberts.

"I sure miss your kisses, baby," said Cleat to me on the phone. "They held us together for three years." We exchanged mutual sighs, along with renewed promises to be open with our respective future lovers in telling them how we like being kissed.

These conversations got me thinking: Do most of you feel like I do about the importance of kissing? Or is it like nipple play, you either like it or you don't?

Even when guys tell me how much they like kissing it doesn't mean they are good at it, or rather, good for me at it, since everyone likes to be kissed differently. So, for the sake of Jean's ongoing kissing poll, I ask you: How do you like being kissed, and who won't  kiss and why?

(Photo: Bradford Noble)