Damn it! Listen up, whores, stop ruining it for everybody else. I used to like kissing. I remember kissing. Ok, it’s a vague memory, but still I remember liking it. More than that, I think I was pretty good at it. But I don’t want to kiss somebody (after the appropriate 40 date waiting period) and have HPV and gonorrheal pharyngitis running through my mind.
Have you seen the movie “Demolition Man”? That’s where we are headed people. It’s very nearly sea shell and virtual-fondling city. There are many, many movies out there that I’d like to find coming true around me—this is not one of them.
Clearly, I long for a more refined time when all I had to wonder was, “Where did he pick up that move?” when a long-term boyfriend suddenly threw in a tongue sweep of my teeth into the mix after two years.
[Random side rant—what was up with that move? I’m sure there are people out there who are into that, but whenever that move is sprung on me, I feel like he’s trying out to be my dental hygienist. I don’t get how it’s sexy. And how are you supposed to respond exactly? There is no sensation on the front of my teeth, my head is snapping back because the guy is trying to shove his tongue into the sides of my mouth to complete the sweep, and the guy always look like they are supposed to get some sort of prize when they finally complete the maneuver. Unless I’m actually making out with a dentist, knock it off. /end random side rant]
But seriously, what more warning do people need before they start making the rampant sexually transmitted disease flow a real consideration? If there are actually open, swollen and oozing pustules on his face and penis, would that do it? Sigh. Probably not.
How do you use those sea shells?