Diana Hamilton: Expository Writing On Some Kisses
A woman wants to be kissed firmly, and bristles at light pecks.
A woman wants to be kissed as if in an old movie: closed mouth, dipped.
A woman wants to be kissed only intermittently, as if she can't decide whether the kiss is a good idea.
She puts her hands on her breasts.
She pushes her against the wall.
She asks how she likes to be kissed.
“No, not like that. Imagine that I am a man, and kiss me again,” one says.
“I don’t want to imagine that you are a man. I would not kiss you, if you were a man, as you know,” the other corrects.
“I’m sorry . . .”
“But I can lie and tell you that I'm imagining you are a man, if it pleases you.”
“It does please me. Tell me how you would kiss me, if I were a man.”
“I’d open my mouth wider, and I’d put your desire before mine.”
“Do that, yes.”
They do that.
She pulls back.
A woman wants to be kissed as if in the oldest movie: slapped by a man.
A woman wants to be kissed as if she’s the old movie’s unsung editor: given unmanageable reels of kisses good and bad to use to make one solid kiss.
A woman wants to be kissed by the woman dressed as the man in the old movie, but wants to know that’s what’s happening, unlike the woman dressed as the woman in the movie.
“Would you really not kiss me, if I were a man?”
“You know I’d kiss you no matter what.”
“How have other women wanted to be kissed?” she asks.
“It’s true that the women who mostly kiss men, when they kiss a woman, sometimes kiss bigger and with less patience, but then that’s also not true, sometimes the women who kiss mostly women kiss entirely impatiently, you’ve just entered the house and kissed their cheek and they’re already on their knees.”
“I like to be kissed that way.”
Here’s an old story:
You’re kissing me against this wall & saying shit
like “here are the reasons I’m not going to kiss you” but
I can’t hear you, my ears are only open
to the sound of your gasp, you say
“The final reason I’m not going to kiss you is that
I don’t kiss those I’ve already kissed, I’m only
interested in new kisses.” You repeat
this. Your hand moves up my skirt, you’re
a woman, a woman who says “it’s too bad
I’m straight given how much I love kissing you”
or “It’s too bad you’re straight
given how much you love kissing me
and how you just told me you’re not straight
a moment ago, I love you, this is the real
reason I’m not going to kiss you, I love you and
you don’t love me you told me so you said
‘I have a lot of love for all of my friends’
I’m not an idiot I have some pride I can’t
kiss you, I’m a man, I have a woman, she isn’t
you she doesn’t love me the way you love me
but still, there are promises a man makes.”
One says: “A woman told me she liked to be kissed wetly, like where the strings of spit connect your mouths when you pull away.”
The other responds: “I kissed a woman who likes to be kissed one kiss at a time; she needs to mark the end of each kiss.”
“You have to be patient to kiss that way.”
They describe more kisses, and they try each of them out.
This, of course, makes them fall in love.
The game takes years, and remains very fun.
One day, one realizes she hates to be kissed just after dinner. The other realizes she only wants to kiss right after dinner, they have a fight, it ends in kisses, one realizes she hates to kiss and make up, they have another fight, they kiss again.
This starts an awful, circular fight, one that gets in the way of their research.
They eat, one kisses, they fight over the timing, they make up, they kiss, they fight over the timing, they kiss, they repeat until bed.
Now they just have this one kiss: the make-up kiss, which one of them hates.
But they’re glad to be stuck in this loop, secretly.
It puts off one kiss they don’t feel ready to try.
A woman wants to be kissed goodbye, for example.