The Kiss That Wasn't

I'm sitting in your car, the time on our first date ticking down. My bus waits nearby. I have about ten minutes. I am thinking of kissing you. We're talking - about what I don't remember - but I'm focused on your lips. They are all I can think of. I imagine them soft, inviting. I see them move as you speak and think of them moving with mine, locked in a passionate moment I will always remember. But the clock ticks on, nine minutes, eight minutes. I feel pressure, but we've already established we will see each other again. This thought relieves the pressure, the drive to make "a move." I think, 'There will be time for this when we meet again. Don't force something that might not be welcomed.'

I've experienced this internal struggle before, with other women. Sometimes it's hard to know the right thing to do. My mind is bombarded with conflicting thoughts: 'Does she want me to kiss her?' 'Do I want to kiss her?' 'Is this the right time?' 'What will her reaction be?'

There is nothing worse than being rejected the first kiss. The self-recrimination typically follows: 'What was I thinking?' 'How could I have not known she was not receptive?' 'What will she think of me now?' Maybe we construct all this in our male minds. I don't know.

I am left wondering about what the kiss would have been. But then decide not to beat myself up about a lost opportunity. I will instead focus on the future, the next time, what I would like this kiss to be, this all important first kiss.

I am told women place a great deal of importance on kissing. They probably enjoy it more than men. They read a lot into the kiss, attempting to glean meaning from the mashing of lips, the twirling of tongues. I can understand this, a kiss can be quite telling. One woman told me that from the first kiss she could tell what kind of lover her man would be. She said she knew if the love-making would be rushed, selfish on the man's part or if it would be passionate, slow, all-embracing, just from that first kiss.

I have approached the first kiss differently after our discussion. I respect it more. I respect a woman's interpretation, the significance of it. I don't think other men are so thoughtful. Now I try to plan it with as much care as I would the first date, focusing on what will make it the best kiss ever for her, instead of just something to get out of the way so we can move on to more mutually satisfying endeavors.
In a perfect world I will control everything about the first kiss: the location, the music playing in the background, all that came before, all that will follow. But I don't live in a perfect world. And I cannot control everything around me, so adaptability is crucial. I must adjust, trust my intuition and seize the moment when it arrives, carpe diem and all.
Passengers begin to board the bus; the moment is gone. I am confident a better moment will arise next time. Instead of a lost opportunity, I exit your car thinking, 'It will be like fireworks for both of us when we meet again.' And after all, isn't that really the point?

Mark Levin