Does this sound like a familiar first date scenario? You’re a nice guy. You have a job, less than three roommates and no antibiotic-resistant STDs. Over sushi tonight, you remembered to ask me questions and not just talk about yourself. You even cleared the Coke cans off the passenger side floor of your Nissan Sentra. But you’re not scoring a second date. Not even second base. No nipple graze. No charitable handy while I pretend not to check my phone. Definitely no P in the V. Meanwhile, the bartender who served us? The one marinated in Axe body wash and sleeps on a used futon he found free on the curb? He’ll be balls-deep 15 minutes after his shift is done. And here’s why:
You’re a shitty kisser.
Seriously. My dog slips better tongue.
You’re awesome on paper. But my taco is not going loco from paper. Everything is riding on that first kiss. It’s not because women are obsessed with some rom. com. ideal of love. (Okay, some are. STAY AWAY FROM THEM.) But women are practical. It’s why we carry around a gigantic purse that looks like it doubles as a time travel portal instead of haphazardly losing our wallet in a jacket pocket. We’re planners. We think ahead. A first kiss is like swimsuit shopping. We’ve tried on a lot of bikinis. We know what will work versus what will chafe. And you, sir, are vagina chafing one-piece with that one, single, terrible first kiss.
Your tongue is an ambassador for your penis. A first kiss determines the difference between 1) me inviting you up for a “nightcap” (i.e., IKEA headboard banging sex that makes the neighbors want to get divorced) or 2) me calling you an Uber because I just “remembered” I have a super early morning tomorrow (i.e., you jack off alone at home with YouPorn, surrounded by Taco Bell wrappers).
Your kissing skills are tragic. You clam-slammed yourself. Your smooch made my snatch put up a “Gone Fishin’” sign. If you can’t work it up here, how the hell could you work it down there?
But we’re here to help. We want you guys to make out like goddamn champs. Listed below are the SIX WORST KISSES known to women. And how to fix (most) of them:
THE SEARCH AND RESCUE. I’m working on an exit strategy because a war just started in my mouth. Your tongue is frantically rotating around like the blades on the last chopper out of ‘Nam. You’ve dislodged a stuck sesame seed from tonight’s crunchy dragon roll I didn’t realize was in there. You’ve even licked my front teeth. Your big finale is shoving your tongue so far down my throat that it’s threatening to come out the other end.
Solution? Nobody wants mouth-rape. Be a stealth drone. You’re grazing the surface, checking things out. Think: NSA. Sweep the landscape and only strike once you know what turns us on. Save the hardcore power-wash for your car.
THE GOPHER. Nothing is way cuter than a tiny fuzzy rodent darting his head in and out of hole repeatedly… on an Animal Planet documentary. But now you’re intensely jabbing at my mouth. It’s creepy. Lizard creepy. The only In-and-Out I want in my body is a dick or a burger. No way is that tongue going anywhere near my lady bits. You can push an elevator button over and over. That doesn’t make it come any faster.
Solution? Ease up on the battering ram tongue. Try a slow, sexy approach. Your mouth is a summer afternoon in a Tennessee Williams play, lazing in a doorway with a glass of gin.
THE FACE HUGGER. Like some fucked-up reverse CPR, I’m seeing spots and struggling for air. You dove in and plastered onto my face like a creature from Alien. There’s even audible Hoover wet/dry vac sounds. I’m looking to get laid, not have a creature seed planted that will burst out of my chest. (Actually, you gave me an idea. Alien is a kickass movie and I’m streaming it on Netflix as soon as I blow you out of the airlock. No, out the airlock. Not blow you.)
Solution? Peel off the suction cup and take a breather. And you know what? Make me work for it a little. Girls are freaky. We like a guy who’s hard to get. Don’t bulldoze us. Cast out your line. We’ll bite that hook.
THE SAINT BERNARD. There’s always one of you. The saliva guy. You’re drooling like a big, slobbery rescue dog. I need a towel and a blow dryer. There’s so much spit coming in here, I’ve gained five pounds of water weight. And I’ve definitely decided I don’t want your Turner in my Hooch.
Solution? Stop swabbing the decks and swallow once in a while, Captain Ahab. Kissing should be like a breezy meadow on a summer day, not a torrential downpour. Save the slippery when wet for playtime “south of the border”. (Hint: I’m talking about my vagina.)
THE MIKE TYSON. A nibble is sexy; a bite is not. There is a wrong way to eat a Reese’s and you’re doing it like Jeffrey Dahmer. When you gnaw my ears and lips like they’re beef short ribs, it makes me fear for my nipples. They actually just inverted. I might throw a friend under the bus, but a girl protects her tits at all cost. If you like the taste of human flesh, there’s someone on Tinder just for you.
Solution? Stick to Chianti and fava beans, Lecter. You complain about toothy blowjobs. We can complain about the same. There’s nothing sexy about someone biting a neck, unless there’s immortality together involved – which is sort of a stretch for a first date. I haven’t even seen your apartment yet.
D.O.A. Dead on arrival. Your open-mouthed kiss parked on my face and then… stopped cold. No tongue, no lip movement. No action whatsoever. I’m considering pulling out my compact to hold it up to your nose to see if you’re even breathing. There is so no “there” there I’m concerned this means you have no penis. Maybe you’re just smooth plastic down there like a Ken doll. Jesus. Do something. I can’t call the Uber fast enough.
Okay, fine. Yes, there are bad female kissers, too. But they are few and far between. How do we know? Hello, we’ve all gotten drunk and kissed our friends. (Yes, we know you think it’s hot. That’s the point.) And we’re here to tell you: ladies kiss better. Soft, sensual, sans drool. We know what we want… from experience.
So think of this like a job performance review. Ask for feedback. It’s why you got the date in the first place. The girl likes you. Nobody goes in for the smooch hoping it’s an excuse not to see you again. So, grab a willing partner and get working on those skills.