The Real Secret To A Good Kiss

It’s not about where you put your hands. Or even your lips.

- Lauren Larson

At first it was hard for me to figure out what the man I was kissing reminded me of, but once I pictured it, I couldn’t un- picture it: He was like one of those drinking- bird toys that bob their head up and down in perpetuity. I very much liked him and had been very much looking forward to kissing him, and I was so bummed. He was a drinking bird, bobbing against my mouth with dry, mechanical rhythm. I stuck with him for a month or so, hoping that I could change his ways or that he would just, like, relax, but I couldn’t and he didn’t. Finally, we exchanged rote pecks and parted ways.

I thought of the drinking birds again last fall, only this time it wasn’t the guy who was the bird. It was me. I was on my third date with someone who I could see was objectively attractive and likable, but for whom I felt nothing. I was kissing him so mechanically that even I was bored, so I wasn’t especially surprised when he pulled away and said, “I have an early meeting tomorrow.” (He was unemployed.)

But that wasn’t the end of it. For several months after that, I was a terrible kisser. I would have a great date with someone, but as soon as we were in front of my apartment and he was leaning in, I’d go rigid. I would stand there, hands on his shoulders, moving my head with all the ease and finesse of my eighth-grade self. I’d been struck down by the kissing yips, and I assumed my romantic career was over.