QUESTION: I recently split up with a man I dated for six months following a painful divorce. We were incompatible in many ways but always hit it off in bed - or so I thought, until I was left feeling shattered after he told me that he didn’t like the way I kissed. I’d spent the previous 12 years kissing just the one man (my former husband) and he never had any complaints. Now the season of mistletoe is upon us and I am feeling so insecure, I fear I’ll never kiss anyone again. What can I do to rectify my technique?
ANSWER: You would think it’s relatively easy to get to “first base”, but kissing can present as many erotic dilemmas as fully-fledged sex. There are etiquette issues concerning timing, depth of probe and oral hygiene, and then a host of personal preference issues regarding lip and tongue technique.
To be a little indelicate, some people do not taste or smell so sweet to certain individuals and much of that is beyond anyone’s control. Our genetic make-up helps determine who will prove fragrant to us; we are designed to prefer the scent and taste of those who will make our best mates in reproductive terms.
Then there’s also the question of a “good fit”: some mouths seem designed to meet in blissful harmony, while other delicate lips may be swamped by a hungry pout of Mick Jagger-esque proportions. So there’s a strong likelihood that what your ex-boyfriend saw as bad kissing was just mismatched mouths.
When I was 18, I briefly stepped out with a local hunk before my then best friend had a fling with him.
When discussing our shared conquest some time later - as girls do - my friend described him dreamily as “the perfect kisser”. I was astonished, as I felt my clinches with him were saliva-filled disasters. It became clear to me that my friend’s and my taste in kissing was wildly different.
When I surveyed a dozen girlfriends, they all had very different views about the ideal mistletoe smacker. One said: “I really favour the classic 1940’s movie kiss, where you press lips together passionately but don’t do tongues.”
Another sighed over “soft little kisses all around the edges of the mouth, like a butterfly’s wings”.
I sent these thoughts to a more vampy girlfriend who said: “I despair of people who seem frightened of spittle. Tongues should explore and embrace because it’s a rehearsal of the sex to come - you won’t have a good time in bed with someone who doesn’t kiss passionately.”
One woman said she liked a careful mix of kissing and “nibbling”; she said “little bites around the ears and edge of your lips can be incredibly sexy”. Almost everybody agreed, though, that plunging a tongue in too swiftly, “without tacit invitation, such as gently parted mouth”, was unattractive, if not downright impolite.
“Sensual lip kisses should precede the French kiss,” said a male expert. Indeed, men turned out to have equally strong opinions on the subject and one doctor friend confessed to a fear of “aggressive kissers”.
What is clear is that certain, sensible preparatory measures should be taken before a kiss fest. Brushing and flossing your teeth is essential. Nobody appreciates beer or curry breath, and smoker’s mouth is a leading offence with both sexes.
“Is it that hard,” said one writer I know, “to keep a packet of mints handy?”
Regular trips to the dentist are important, too - much of the worst halitosis is caused by tooth decay and gum disease. I know a number of attractive people, of both sexes, who repel suitors because of their dragon’s breath.
The secret of good kissing, it seems to me, is similar to dancing (and this is also true of good sex): you need to be able to follow your partner and respond elegantly to their subtlest directions.
If your target beau starts with gentle pressure, you want to be gentle back. Nothing is worse than just opening wide and thrusting in your tongue like the mother extra-terrestrial in Ridley Scott’s Alien. Every woman I know has a horrific memory of being slobbered over in their youth by a boy who kissed like a sex-starved Labrador.
Many of my respondents also reminisced, in wonder, about being locked into teenage kisses that went on for hours. I remember watching a friend kiss a boy at a party, aged 16, and they didn’t come up for air for more than two hours. She says now: “It’s as if we thought our lips were suction pads and nothing else.”
The upside about being older is that we middle-aged souls tend to be bolder about ringing the changes with kissing. One fortysomething chap I know told me the other day that he had only just discovered the “joy of kissing my wife’s eyelids tenderly”.
And I know very few women who don’t melt when a man kisses the nape of their neck; the fingertips, shoulders and backs of knees can prove popular, too. And for some elevated souls only a kiss on the sole of the foot will do - but take a trip to the chiropodist first.
With sensible preparation your mistletoe bliss should be guaranteed. - Daily Mail