Monday, October 13, 2008

Why we kiss

Kissing must be one of the most disgusting acts ever to be borne out of romance. But who can begrudge the earnest kiss, so typically determined in its intensity to touch base and reality with with the object of fancy.

Restauranteurs would disagree, but their settings are merely a prelude to the more sinister projects that follow. 14 February is in fact a day deeply steeped in traditions of high crime; of devious scheming to set up time, place, and opportunity for shameless kissing.

For a being as selfish as man, no singular act is as consistently selfless as that of offering a kiss to the object of fancy. Having a bad cold? Pop a Clarinase before the action resumes. Pimply complexion? Don't worry I won't look. Spectacles? Take them off! Kissing doesn't require vision unless you're trying to disfigure me.

But in the first place, how did man and woman even come up with the ridiculous idea that our facial orifices could be joined in a celebration of intense affection? I cannot think of any frigid pre-enlightened woman before the sixth century who would possibly allow a man to stick his tongue into her mouth in order for him to better demonstrate his amorous intentions.

Some say kissing originated from the queer Maraichins, inhabitants of the French region in Brittany. A practice that involves a profound exploration of the mouth of one's partner for several hours, it was initially called Maraichinage. The impressionable French must be praised for innovation - drastically reducing the amount of time needed to complete the oral experiments and for marketing the idea to the world successfully. And all that during a time when medical science was not-so-great, epidemics equalled human culling, and when one had to take a chance on promised pleasure by chewing a leaf, hopefully mint.

Little wonder that the 21st century woman feels shortchanged and reduced to frequent cries of lovelessness, kissing in marriage having been reduced to a pre-coital performance that lasts all of maybe, 15 seconds. You couldn't even feel the Frenchness anymore, they wail. And at the end of it you've still got to be thankful for the dash of wine-breath and scented perfume you detected on his shirt after his midnight adventures - the last remaining vestiges of European-ness.

Kissing might have been a demonstration of affection between the Europeans (genius is he who first devised the method to get sick pleasure out of the women-folk) but its introduction into romance has provided a new relationship-analysis tool (eerily-accurate though) for the maligned spouse.

"But you hardly kiss me now...why?"
"Why didn't you close your eyes when you kissed me...?"
"You kiss differently now...why?"
"What's wrong with the way I kiss...?"
"Do you remember the first time we kissed [fill in the blank]?" (who remembers all the details???)

And that is usually taken as a first sign the marriage is about to fall apart within the next 6 months. What follows: the checking of sms-es on your handphone (whilst you are in the shower), the taped phone conversations, the strange doll you found with a dozen pins sticking out of the testicular region.

So if you ever want to hide anything from your spouse, don't ever let up on the kissing technique.

Posted by stash at 1:24 AM