"If you want to know if he loves you so, it's in his kiss"...or so the song goes. But the reality is, that's a lie. We all know kissing, especially a really good kiss, is all about a chemical connection via hormones found in spit.
The mouth is a sensual place if you ask me. Warm, inviting and chock filled with chemicals in the saliva that will set the heart pattering during a kiss. The mouth and lips contain over 40% of the nerves connected to our face, so the lips respond intensely to every kind of stimuli, which, in turn, triggers a massive response in the brain. During a passionate kiss, our blood vessels dilate; more oxygen is routed to the brain; our breathing quickens and becomes erratic; our cheeks flush; our pulse quickens; our pupils dilate. We are inundated with dopamine, serotonin, norepinephrine, oxytocin, and our adrenaline levels spike, leaving our bodies awash in a chemical bath that is equivalent to an amazing drug high that often leaves us addicted and wanting more.
So, a good kiss really means nothing in the grand scheme of commitment. It doesn't mean he loves you, it doesn't mean he'll stick around, but it does mean there is some seriously good sexual juju that may or may not lead to love.
The mouth is a sensual place if you ask me. Warm, inviting and chock filled with chemicals in the saliva that will set the heart pattering during a kiss. The mouth and lips contain over 40% of the nerves connected to our face, so the lips respond intensely to every kind of stimuli, which, in turn, triggers a massive response in the brain. During a passionate kiss, our blood vessels dilate; more oxygen is routed to the brain; our breathing quickens and becomes erratic; our cheeks flush; our pulse quickens; our pupils dilate. We are inundated with dopamine, serotonin, norepinephrine, oxytocin, and our adrenaline levels spike, leaving our bodies awash in a chemical bath that is equivalent to an amazing drug high that often leaves us addicted and wanting more.
So, a good kiss really means nothing in the grand scheme of commitment. It doesn't mean he loves you, it doesn't mean he'll stick around, but it does mean there is some seriously good sexual juju that may or may not lead to love.
| #1: It was just a mild flirtation and I never expected anything to happen. But for only one night it did. I remember the sound of the creek below as my hands wove through his hair. So soft, both the sound of the water and the feel of his hair. He sat on the guardrail before me and we were then face to face. The trees shook in the wind, the night blended the darkness into various shades of light and for a few moments I was oblivious to it all... |  |
#2: The wooden footbridge was dark, empty and probably not more than 50 feet long. But when one is lustily distracted by a wild and curly-haired man with a dark soul and a fiery passion, a bridge, even a short bridge such as this one, can take hours to cross...
#3: As we sat on the bench in the dark, he told me he was emotionally bankrupt and couldn't give me anything, I said that was OK. But when my lips touched the warm, salty skin on his neck I was hit with a desire I hadn't felt in awhile. I knew at that moment that I was lying to him and that eventually I'd want more....
#4: The intimacy of my bedroom is rarely shared with anyone. The honor of being in my sacred space is something that is earned, not freely given. But if you find yourself standing next to me near my bed, you can expect that I want more than a kiss.
#5: It had been weeks since I saw him last, as his other girlfriends and a hefty drug addiction kept him busy. We drove together to the coast to talk about his desire to finally try to be with me; maybe, just maybe, he was ready to commit. But as we sat in the car staring at the sea, talking about our roller coaster affair, I realized that I didn't want to be with him. I wasn't in love with him anymore, and I knew I could never truly trust him. So I kissed him instead. I knew then that I only wanted his body, because that was the only thing he could give me that wasn't a lie...
#6: Oh goodness! if this dive bar could talk! If these beer stained walls and this dance floor could tell the stories of my many romantic adventures they silently witnessed, what would they tell? Would they discuss that long ago NYE when the drunk man I randomly kissed at midnight became aggressive and insinuated his desire to rape me? Would they whisper about the lean, tall architect from Idaho whom I loved long-distance for a year? Would they gossip about my behavior with the heartbroken man who wanted only distraction or talk in hushed tones about the drug addict bassist or the charismatic artist I met while dancing? Would they "tsk-tsk" me about the cheating fiddle player, the one-nighter with the 23-year-old man-boy or any of the many other romantic characters who have struck my fancy over the years? I bet they probably would.
#7: He was only offering me a shoulder to cry on, as two days earlier another man broke my heart. He was kind and sweet and listened to me as I emptied my heart. He didn't mind my snot on his sleeve as I cried, and he hugged me often as we walked around town. I felt such comfort in his attentions, and it seemed inevitable that I found myself with him in a low-lit park. He hugged me again, and as my heart beat fast and my tummy did flip flops, I knew it was ok to forget about the heartbreaking bastard who hurt me two nights ago...
#8: As I stood on my steps and kissed him goodbye, I knew in my gut he was about to disappear again, even though he said he'd see me in a few days. This was never a surprise to me, his disappearing, as disappearing was his way, it's how our relationship worked. Maybe it would only be for a few days, maybe for weeks or months, once it was even a year. I never knew. But I knew he'd be back; he always came back. I was one of his many addictions, as my kisses led him to a place of ecstasy and he always, eventually, returned.
#9: I am not the type of person who is prone to public make outs on public sidewalks, that is not my style. In general I seem to be a bit more modest about PDA. Though there was a moment during a warm summer evening when a man I fancied asked if he could kiss me goodnight. I was hesitant for a moment and continued to unlock my bike. I really wanted his kiss and I wanted him. I looked him in they eye, took a brief look around me, then I wrapped my arms around his neck. I decided not to care for once what other people in this small town of mine might see me do or what they might think about my actions. Sometimes not caring can lead to fun.
#10: Rewind, 1984: I was 14, he was 13, Sam. I have no real recollection of how we paired up or how things began. I don't recall the details of how I ended up laying under him, the damp grass of the golf course cold and itchy, but I do recall that was the first time I made out with a boy. It was kind of cool, but kind of grossly-weird as we slid our tongues around each other’s mouths. I got the hang of it quickly and decided I really liked kissing. I would like to say he influenced me profoundly, but he didn't. He was just the first boy I kissed in a long line of men I would end up swapping spit with...
#11: We rode our bikes through the dark streets of town like giddy teenagers until it was time for me to turn off onto my road. We parked our bikes near the chain link fence of the tiny park to say goodbye. I wasn't planning on kissing him but I spontaneously pulled him to me and we kissed for what seemed like hours. Cars drove by, crickets chirped and the warm evening breeze shook the big, majestic maple that was over us. I only noticed that in passing, as kissing him and feeling his hands on my skin put me into another realm of reality.
#12: He was a young-buck, ego-driven 27 year old; I was a 44 year old single mom ready to rumble. Over dinner on our first date, he stated, in a matter-of-fact manner, that he had a habit of becoming an asshole to the women he dated within a short period of time. "Just letting you know ahead of time". As I was just looking for sex, that major Red Flag didn't seem important to care about so we carried on with the date. After dinner I took him to a nearby park, sat with him on the steps and kissed him under the dappled glow of a lamp post and the nighttime city shimmered beyond the trees. Did he become an asshole as he promised? Yes, he did, but I got laid a lot and really well before he did so.
#13: His sexual bravado was easily seen in his swagger and smile, he was one of those men that just oozed sexiness. It was yet another night in the crowded bar, the music loud, they crows rambunctious. So no one noticed when he came over to me, pheromones flying like sparks and whispered in my ear, "If I ever got you alone, I'd have to kiss you." I looked him in the eye, my bravado matching his, while my whole body froze in a vice of desire and I replied, "Well, whenever you're ready, I'll follow you out the door." We walked to the bleachers at the ball field where he wrapped me in his arms. He leaned in to kiss me and then BAM! He ignited a fire within me that I sorely needed to feel again.
| #14: He was ruggedly handsome and really sexy in that manly-man kind of way, but he blushed red when I suggested he could be a part of this photo series if he ever made out with me. So when, a few weeks later, I found myself kissing him quite wildly in a small park in town, I finally divulged to him that I was kissing him not because of my photo series, but because I was very curious about how he kissed. I have to admit, my plan worked. |  |
#15: In our short but very intense Summer-into-Fall romance, we saw each other almost every day. My busy life sometimes only allowed for short moments together, so we would have 30 minute "Driveway Dates" where we hung out in his car, talked of our day, kissed and hugged like our lives depended on each other. He was someone I truly loved and wanted to go the distance with. But then it all changed so fast, he changed things without warning. And as I stood in my driveway with him for the last time, I knew he would not kiss me goodbye.
#16: The party was winding down and as I left he offered to walk me up the road to my car, the backstory being that there was about 10 years worth of flirtation and attraction between us. So with the late summer night spread before us, the warmth still in the air and the crickets as our music, he asked to kiss me. "Yes, I think It's about time" I state. So with that permission, we sank into a physical melding created by built up lust and curiosity that left me breathless and wanting more.
#17: Months ago, while sharing a joint outside the bar, he started to ask me questions about my Making Out With Boys photo series, as he was curious about it: How many men was I dating? How many boyfriends did I have? And, more importantly, he asked if I had ever kissed anyone at this particular bar. "No, not yet," I stated. So when I ran into him recently at this particular bar, after our greetings and hugs near the bathroom, he leaned towards me and planted a quick kiss on my lips. I was simultaneously shocked that he made such a ballsy move but not surprised either, as I sensed he wanted to kiss me for a while now. It was a chaste kiss and as I didn't have time to respond, all I could do was laugh and say, "Now I've been kissed at this bar!" But I'll never say never to another kiss, maybe more, within the walls of this particular bar...
#18: When we first started our short but intense love affair, we were all over each other, all the time. With our electrified physical dynamic, there wasn't any place that was off limits to the ravenous joy of turning each other on. As I loaded my laundry into the dryer, he grabbed me from behind, turned me around and kissed me hard and passionately, wet towels falling to the floor as I engaged him in kind with my desire. At that point in our romance, I was still in the mindset that we loved each other, as that is what we agreed on. If I knew that "I Love You" meant something different to him than it did to me, if I foresaw the reality that he would leave me soon, I would never have desecrated my laundry room with my lust.
#19: "Look up!" he says as the convertible roars along the winding roads of West Marin. We enter into the grove of eucalyptus trees on the way to the coast and I catch myself in a moment of freedom within my heart as I lift my head and observe the dappled light. He holds my hand and looks at me with soft eyes and I fight with all my might not to fall into them, but I do anyway, regardless of the fortress of barbed wire around my heart. He's creeping into my soul, and I am simultaneously scared and elated by the possibilities...
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