I’m going to France. And because everything reminds me of sex, including France, I looked up French Kiss on Wiki. Here ya go: “A French kiss is a kiss, usually romantic or sexual in nature, in which one participant’s tongue touches the other’s tongue and usually enters his or her mouth. It is also known as tongue kissing, pash, hooking up, mugging it up, making-out, macking on, necking, getting into, snog, slipping the tongue, popping tongue, sucking face, swapping spit, deep kissing, getting off with, pulling, tongue wrestling, tonsil tennis, tonsil hockey, necking, Frencher (Quebec) and frenching.”

That is is some pretty sexy shit, is it not? And so I asked myself, as I’m getting ready for my trip to France: “Self? What are you gonna blog about?” And my Self, being very one-track-minded, answered, “France. Sex. Hmm.” So, of course I thought about kissing. French kissing. And I went back, scarily back, to remember my first French Kiss, or popping tongue, as the case may be.

It was in a closet. I was thirteen. I was at a friend’s and we were playing spin the bottle. That game sucks. I hate that game. But anyway, I spun the fucking bottle or He did but either way, we ended up in the closet with the door closed. I waited. I was sweaty. I was not comfortable in my sexuality (to the vexation of many, I over compensated later). He put his mouth to mine and his lips were dry. His tongue thrust forth, into my mouth and beyond. Yes, beyond. I wondered if he was trying to taste what I’d eaten for lunch. He was like a snake, and to this day, I still think of my first kiss as being with The Snake. He was so cute before, with his skateboard and his Vans and haircut which I copied about twenty years later (you know, all short in back and long in front). But still. It ruined me for kissing for many years.

I’m glad to say I’m over that little experience. Now, I love kissing. Now, kissing is an art all in and of itself. There is a power in it; you can gain control of an entire night in just one kiss. Are you the thruster or the thrustee? Are you backed against the wall or are you backing someone against that wall? Are your knees weak or sturdy? Are you in control of that kiss, or are you battling for dominance? Yes, a simple kiss can be a display of power, and there is a a wonderful thrill in that.

Tell me: what kind of kisser are you?