I’ve been thinking of this since long before I was married. Hopefully that’s obvious, but just in case. Nevertheless here is the odd little social situation that came to my mind today after reading someone’s comment about something. I mean, the comment really had nothing to do with this BLOG, but there is a long distant connection. Trust me. LONGGGGG distant.
So here I am, laptop on lap, thinking about this subject while my sweetie pie finishes getting the Harley ready for this summer’s adventures. Yep, believe it or not, this is what’s on my mind right now. Why the hell do men stick their tongues down your throat on your first date? I mean truly, what are they thinking?
Is it that thanks to all the impersonal technology available to us (24 hour news reporting, spill your guts internet sites, cell phones ringing every 12 seconds) we have become inured to the age old wisdom of getting to know one another s-l-o-w-l-y and comfortably? Is it that some of them just plain don’t get past their high school boy kissing prowess?
Remembering back to my early dating days long (eons) ago, I recall that in my late teens and early twenties I enjoyed some very healthy lip action. Tongues were not involved. At least initially. That came later. Much later. Well OK, except for one unfortunate incident in high school. Worst kisser ever. Felt like my face was being swallowed by a wet fish ...... and he had the audacity to suggest that I was the bad kisser. Blech. Still makes me want to wretch.
High school notwithstanding, fast forward to my late forties and early fifties and men met here and there, not only on the internet (so it can’t all be blamed on technology). Picture it if you have the stomach for it. Meeting a strange man (little did I know how strange) for dinner on the south side of Milwaukee. He was
some kind of psychologist/psychiatrist from CHItown. Ok, sounded intriguing. I like psychology. Figured we’d have some good conversation during dinner.
Well, we didn’t. He was boring as hell. Kept staring at me like he wanted to devour me rather than his poorly cooked steak. Blech again. Maybe he just wasn’t my kind of guy ...... or maybe the look on his face just gave me the willies thinking he must not have had an encounter with a female for many, many months. Whatever. The look made me think of that old saying about how nobody needs a psychologist as much as a psychologist. Ok, actually I just made that up.
So fast forward to the end of dinner. I’m ready to head home to my lovely, peaceful cottage in Brewer’s Hill. All by myself. But no. He wants to see some of Milwaukee. I admit that this is a personality flaw of mine. I took pity on the poor little dude. I said I’d go for a short ride. “Idiot”, you are thinking. Yes, so am I. I even thought it at the time.
So here we are on our short drive so that I could show him some of the city. Ok, he just paid for dinner and I, feeling that my time had been bought (where did that idea come from?), agreed to this half hour task. He seemed undesirable yet harmless.
Sure as saliva we got five minutes away and he pulled into a parking lot to “look at the beautiful sunset”. Next thing I knew there was an arm around my neck and a tongue down my throat. BLECH. I mean ....... BLECHHHHHHHH. One might think that when a woman is trying desperately to get free of your grasp, while making gagging, retching sounds you might get the clue that she’s not into what you’re doing. Or is that just my impression?
Need I say this was the last time I ever communicated with this little patoot? Need I say that after the relatively same experience in high school, I did not have a second date with the dreadfully insensitive turd? I thought not.
Hmmmmm ........ I'm hearing that wonderful roar of a Harley. Think I'll go stick my tongue down someone's throat ...........