Kissing 101 taught by Sudiegirl, the sultaness of smooch

“Necking with Marilyn Monroe is like kissing Hitler”
--Tony Curtis














(By the way, Monroe replied to Life magazine in 1962: "I think that's his problem.")

Isn’t it weird how two people can view the same situation?

I’m not sure what’s prompting my fascination with Marilyn Monroe this week. I think it’s the simple fact that nobody really knew who she was and if she realized how her presence affected people.

I think she knew, to a degree, the power she had over men (and women). She didn’t always use it wisely, but she didn’t have too many strong women to look to as examples while she was young.

I’m not trying to compare myself to Monroe by any stretch of the imagination, but it’s been interesting watching my oldest niece navigate womanhood. She got her first kiss the other day. She was…shall we say…disenchanted with the whole process.

To be more specific, she said she felt like she was “going to puke”.

That really surprised me…I said, “Well, did he taste like cigarettes or something?”

She said, “No…he tasted like spit!” Then the teenage histrionics began. “Oh God, I’m gonna puke, I’m gonna puke!”

This was alien to me as far as first kisses go.

I mean, I remember my first kiss in a fairly romantic way even though my heart was broken in the end, etc.

It was in April of 1984, and the guy that kissed me had just turned 16 and had his drivers’ license. He came to my house and “hung out” while I was babysitting, and then he had to go home. I walked him to his car (unwisely leaving my young charges in the house by themselves), and it happened.

It was really nice. It was everything I hoped it would be. It became the gold standard by which many other kisses would be measured.

Then, the relationship (such as it was) was over.

The withdrawl from those kisses was pretty tough. I was angry at God. I was angry at the world. Why would the powers that be take something that felt this good away from me? I spent the rest of my teen years pursuing that same feeling. I did get lots of practice in, I’ll tell you that much.

I gradually learned with all this that there are bad kissers out there. I’m not sure how I’m perceived in this world as far as that skill goes, but I sincerely hope I’m not a bad kisser.

Even though women’s magazines say, “Kiss your partner in the way you’d like to be kissed”, I have to say the philosophy is sound but in practice it doesn’t always work.

In fact, there are certain categories of bad male kissers, to be sure. (Please note: I am speaking from a strictly hetero point of view, and apologize for seeming narrow-minded. I simply can’t talk about things I don’t know with expertise, now can I? Thank you, the management.) Let me list three of them:


1. “Juicy Bruce”
Juicy Bruce (and apologies to those out there named Bruce, BTW) apparently has no shortage of saliva. Those salivary glands are workin’ overtime. While that’s good for breaking down food particles and creating spitballs, it’s not good for romance. Why?

• Saliva is not like water; when saliva dries, it’s sticky. So after you have a necking session with "Juicy Bruce", you feel like the back side of a piece of scotch tape, you know?


• Some Juicy Bruces also suffer from a side-malady called “Post-Nasal Drip”. Basically, it’s when your sinuses drain into your stomach, and sometimes it has a smell and taste all its own (and it’s not minty freshness either). So when Juicy Bruce is dripping with love for you (from the mouth, that is), there’s all kinds of fun stuff going on as we speak. (The word “fun” is being used ironically in this case.)

The sad thing? Juicy Bruce doesn’t know he’s juicy…he thinks he’s OK. The reason he doesn’t know he’s juicy is because his victim – er, partner – is drowning in saliva. A CPR certification would probably prove useful, but how do you tell him? Oh well…on to the next.

2. “Doctor Tongue, the Love Machine”
Doctor Tongue is the perfect lover – just ask him. He’ll tell you.

Doctor Tongue’s attitude when it comes to romance? “When in doubt, stick your tongue down her throat and remove the tonsils.”

This laissez-faire approach to romance and surgery might be OK for some folks, especially if you support “no-hands surgical techniques”. For the rest of us, though, it can be intimidating, especially if it’s the first time you’ve encountered each other.

You know what else? When Doctor Tongue comes out to play, one of two things happen: the guy has a really fat tongue and you’re in danger of choking, or he has a skinny tongue like a snake. If it’s a skinny-tongued guy, that’s the ultimate in creepy…I mean, what would stop him from wiggling that tongue into my sinus cavities and sucking out my brain? EEEWWWW…just like a zombie movie. I won't even discuss the post-nasal drip factor.

3. “Nervous Norvus”

Nervous Norvus goes by other names, as in “Here’s your hat, what’s your hurry?” or “Where’s the fire”. Nervous Norvus is on a schedule, dammit. He has an AGENDA. Either lead, follow, or get the hell out of the way.

So, you’re at the front door of your house/apartment/condo/wigwam and that crucial moment comes. The “goodnight kiss”.

This also spells doom with a “Nervous Norvus” because they’ll either be rushing from first base to home plate and morphing into “Doctor Tongue” OR they’ll give you the perfunctory “grandma peck” on the lips and race the hell away.

Usually, Nervous Norvus is moving fast enough so the saliva glands aren’t catching up to his activity level. Be grateful for this, because if his saliva production matched his speed/rushed manner, you’d drown very quickly.


I could go on and describe more, but maybe I’ll let my readers do that. After all, that is what blogging is for, right? Come on, all you cool cats and hound dogs…tell me about the worst kisses you’ve ever had, or what constitutes a “bad kisser” to you. Maybe we’ll find some universal standards?

So smooches to you!
Sudiegirl