Kiss Bombs

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“Oh, how she wanted to kiss those lips! Her quickened pulse felt like fire in her veins – she wanted to feel him now. Her eyes locked onto his as she closed the space between them, circling her hands around his neck and tangling her fingers in his hair as she crushed her lips against his.”

~ excerpt from Wildflower, Kim Petersen

Okay, let’s clear this up from the start – kissing is fun. No, more than that, kissing is bliss. Lips touch and tongues entwine in a beautiful language all of their own. You’re drawn into a secret world known only to the two of you, and as the kiss deepens, you’re pretty sure you could stay there forever. You might too, if you didn’t need air.

Kissing. The world spins high, your pulse is a cackle of exquisite explosions, and the inducing body rush is enough to weaken your knees. Pleasurable chemicals are released – dopamine and adrenaline flood your being, and voila, you’re in heaven, baby!

Kissing is probably underrated for the most part – the lingering looks and deep kisses wear off too quickly among couples that have been together for an extended period. It’s a shame, a damned shame, because it’s a proven fact that kissing is a de-stressor. Negative emotions shut down as the bonding hormone oxytocin is released, and kissing is found to decrease serum cholesterol. And let’s not discount the physical benefit – we use around 30 muscles when kissing. That is toning, my friends! (So long Botox!)

I look over my kissing history with fond memories and cheesy grins. My lip trail began during those early school days playing kiss and catch with the boys. I learned how to run exceptionally fast back then. Oh yes, no way was I going to let a boy catch me. When my little legs failed and my heart was about to explode, I’d cheat and hide out in the school library, only to be sprung by my pursuers with nowhere to escape. Hiding behind teachers then became my game.

The kisses resulting upon capture in that childhood game were harmless little pecks. I’m not so sure what I was worried about. Maybe it was the prospect of being too close to sweaty boys. Arms would ensnare and hands grip my head like a vice before the incoming peck slammed against the cheek like a victorious stamp.

I changed schools during the 4th grade and graduated to more mature levels of kissing. Like, not. In that school, it was all about suggestive innuendo where the boys would say stuff like “I want to see your dictionary” and “I love eucalyptus”. Or just stare until the blush crept up like raw beetroot. I mean – c’mon?

Seriously though, I’m no kissing expert, but I’ve experienced my fair share – from the downright WTF was that kind of kiss, to the soft romantic variety, to the euphoric depths of passion where too much is never enough. I’ve kissed boys, I’ve kissed men, and I’ve experienced the seductive lips of women. Believe me when I say, I understand why it’s sooo nice to kiss women. But what about the first real kiss?

I’ll tell you there were no stars soaring across the sky that night – no chemical rush to support the hype surrounding the art of the kiss. My pulse was flat and my stomach curled. I almost gave up on the notion of kissing then and there on that dark crowded dance floor during a Blue Light disco.

His name was Brandon. He was tall and solid, a whole lot of awkward and a whole lot of ginger. To be fair, it wasn’t Brandon; it was his first kiss too, and he really was a sweetheart. I was fourteen and the thing was, all my friends were experts at the kissing game – all except me.

Every couple of months the NSW police department would organise a disco for the local teens. They’d set up a huge screen and feature video clips (MTV days). The music blasted, and the smoke machine worked overtime. Sometimes, they’d even have bands playing. It was awesome and we came in droves.

It was supposed to be a clean affair – no booze, no weed, no anything else. Naturally, we’d all figure our way around this little hiccup. Sneaky teens do rebel, and everyone would look forward to the next Blue Light disco. In its time, it was the place to be.

The problem?  I was shy, but my friends thought it was about time I let someone plant a proper kiss on my inexperienced lips. And damn it, they were going to make it happen.

Poor Brandon. Poor me. It was a slobbery exchange of stiff lips and graceless tongues, and it lasted a few short moments before I excused myself and hid in a corner somewhere until I felt safe to face him again. We both decided we weren’t into forced kissing. Well, I thought it was mutual decision and that was good enough for me.

The next time I summoned enough courage to press my lips against another’s, it was my choice and my choosing. Thankfully, the path of getting down and saucy with cute boys, lips and tongues improved to hot exchanges that quickly backed up the whole kissing hype, and once mastered, I never looked back.

Whether it’s something as simple as kissing, it’s important to realise the need to trust our inner selves and take our cues from that voice within. I wasn’t ready to kiss that boy that night. The act was forced and the result was disappointing, and I’d felt like I’d somehow failed. But when I was ready to kiss someone, it felt good and natural, and the experience unfolded as it should have, and I was left feeling positive.

You will never lead yourself astray if you take guidance from your inner-being and listen to your instincts. Now, what are you waiting for? Go pucker up and de-stress!

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