A Kiss Is Never Just a Kiss

When the mood strikes, a kiss can catch us in a mix of tastes, textures, mysteries—and scents. We kiss nervously, flirtingly, angrily, or excitedly.  And a kiss is not just all about sex: Hollywood celebs throw us air kisses; mobsters impart the kiss of death, and an astronaut kisses the soil after a safe return home. 

So why, then, are we so taken with kissing?

Scientists agree our lips evolved first for eating—and then later for speech. Yet, with a kiss, a different kind of hunger applies. Did you know that kisses set off a whirlwind of neuro-chemical messages yielding anything from sensations of touch to sexual arousal; feelings of closeness to even a wave of euphoria? That's right. I'll bet you've felt all of that in your lifetime.



But everyone knows kissing is not a solo affair, and kissing transmits external messages as well. The bringing together of two bodies sets off messages just as powerful with your partner, but whether they are precisely the same feelings or not is another matter altogether.  Kisses pack quite a punch. Even one kiss can transmit much information about the potential of a relationship. Researchers say that kisses are so powerful that a first kiss gone badly can derail even the most promising of relationships. Scientists believe that lip-locking evolved as a means to promote mate-selection—I'll go along with that thought. Kisses transmit olfactory, tactile and postural types of information tapping into both the conscious and unconscious mind that drives decisions, including a genetically-compatible mate!  Some researchers believe that a kiss can even disclose the extent to which a partner might commit to raising children—central to our specie’s survival.

Nearly 50 years ago, British zoologist and author Desmond Morris theorizied that kissing probably evolved from primates: mothers chew food for their young, and then feed them mouth-to-mouth. And since chimps still feed this way, early man probably did so, as well. This press of outturned lips against lips may have later progressed as a way to comfort children in times of hunger—and eventually becoming a general expression of affection. (Leave it to us humans to take these first parental kisses down the myriad of paths we have today!)

It is believed that unseen chemical messengers named pheromones helped along the evolution of the intimate kiss.  Both animals and plants use pheromones to communicate: insects, for example, emit pheromones to signal alarms, point out a food trail or announce sexual attraction. In 1995, a Swiss researcher showed why pheromones are so important in humans, too.  He had women sniff t-shirts worn by men, and asked which smelled best. The results were startling: the women did not choose randomly, which was discovered by comparing the DNA of the women and men.  Instead, women overwhelmingly picked the scent of man whose histocompatibility complex (MHC)—the genes that forge our immune systems—differed from their own.  (Different MHC’s mean less immune overlap, and the increased likelihood of healthy, disease-resistant kids.) Thus, kissing may be a woman’s way of assessing a potential mate’s immune compatibility—without investing an excessive amount of time, energy in (and not to mention sexual activity with) a man. 

But these scientists aren’t telling the average person anything new: when it comes time to close your eyes and lean in, we all know that a kiss is never just a kiss.
 

Little Old Ladies in Florida

Two elderly ladies are sitting on the front porch in Daytona, doing nothing. One lady turns and asks, "Do you still get horny?"

The other replies, "Oh sure I do. All the time."

The first old lady asks, "What do you do about it?"

The second old lady replies, "I suck a lifesaver."

After a few moments, the first old lady asks, "Who drives you to the beach?"

Three old ladies were sitting side by side in their retirement home in Jacksonville reminiscing. The first lady recalled shopping at the green grocers and demonstrated with her hands, the length and thickness of a cucumber she could buy for a penny.

The second old lady nodded, adding that onions used to be much bigger and cheaper also, and demonstrated the size of two big onions she could buy for a penny a piece.

The third old lady smiled and said, "I can't hear a word you're saying, but I remember the guy you're talking about."

A little old lady is sitting on a park bench in The Sun Lakes, a Florida Adult community. A man walks over and sits down on the other end of the bench. After a few moments, the woman asks,  "Are you a stranger here?"

He replies, "I lived here years ago."

"So, where were you all these years?'"

'In prison,' he says.

"Why did they put you in prison?"

He looks at her, and very quietly says, "I killed my wife."

"Oh!" says the woman. "So you're single...?!"

Potentially and Realistically

A young boy went up to his father and asked him, "Dad, what is the difference between potentially and realistically?"

The father thought for a moment, then answered, "Go ask your mother if she would sleep with Brad Pitt for a million dollars. Then ask your sister if she would sleep with Brad Pitt for a million dollars. Come back and tell me what you learn from that."

So the boy went to his mother and asked, "Would you sleep with Brad Pitt for a million dollars?"

The mother replied, "Of course I would! We could really use that money to fix up the house and send you to a great university!"

The boy then went to his sister and asked, "Would you sleep with Brad Pitt for a million dollars?"

The girl replied, "Oh my Gawd! I LOVE Brad Pitt. I would sleep with him in a heartbeat! Are you nuts?"

The boy pondered the answers for a few days and then went back to his dad. His dad asked him, "Did you find out the difference between 'potentially' and 'realistically'?"

The boy replied, "Yes, Dad, I did.  Potentially, you and I are sitting on two million dollars. But realistically we're just living with two hookers."

Her and His Divorce Letters

Dear Husband,

I’m writing you this letter to tell you that I’m leaving you forever. I’ve been a good wife to you for seven years, but I have nothing to show for it. These last two weeks have been hell. Your boss called to tell me that you quit your job today—that was the last straw. Last week, you came home and didn’t even notice I had done my nails and toes, had cooked your favorite meal and even wore a brand new pair of silk panties. You ate in two minutes and went straight to sleep after watching Monday Night Football. You don’t tell me you love me anymore; you don’t want sex or anything that connects us as husband and wife. Either you’re cheating on me or you don’t love me anymore. Whatever the case, I’m gone.

Your EX-Wife

P.S., Darling: Don’t try to find me. Your Brother and I are moving away to West Virginia together! Have a great life!

Dear Ex-Wife,

Nothing has made my day more than receiving your letter. It’s true you and I have been married for seven years, although a good woman is a far cry from what you’ve been. I watch my sports so much because they drown out your constant whining and bitching. Too bad that doesn’t work. I DID notice when you did your nails last week, but the first thing that came to mind was "You look just like Boy George!" Since my mother raised me not to say anything if you can’t say something nice, I didn’t comment. And when you cooked my favorite meal, you must have gotten me confused with MY Brother, because I stopped eating fish seven years ago. About those new silk panties: I turned away from you because the $49.99 price tag was still on them, and I prayed it was a coincidence that my brother had just borrowed $50.00 from me that morning stating it was for his phone bill. After all of this, I still loved you and felt we could work it out. So when I hit the lotto for 10 million dollars, I quit my job and bought us two tickets to Hawaii. But when I got home you were gone. Everything happens for a reason, I guess. I hope you have the fulfilling life you always wanted. My lawyer said that the letter you wrote ensures you won’t get a dime from me. So take care.

Your Ex-Husband, Rich as Hell and Free!

P.S., Sweetie: I don’t know if I ever told you this—my brother Frank was born Francine. I hope that’s not a problem

A Stranger's Hands

He grasped me firmly, but gently, just above my elbow and guided me

into the room, his room. Then he quietly shut the door and we were alone. I blinked. I hadn't expected the room to be so small, the lights to be so bright. He approached me soundlessly, from behind, and spoke in a low, reassuring voice close to my ear. "Just relax."

I swallowed and said, "I'm trying to."

"This won't take long." His voice sounded husky.

Warmth flooded my cheeks.

Without warning, he reached down, his strong, calloused hands starting at my ankles, gently probing and moving upward along my calves, slowly but steadily—a stranger's hands.

My breath caught in my throat.

I knew I should be afraid, but somehow I didn't care what happened. I had to go through with this; there was no other way. None.

His touch was so experienced, so sure, at first I tried to do what he asked—relax. But when his hands moved up onto my thighs, I gave a shudder, and closed my eyes. My pulse suddenly began pounding like mad, my heart a hammer in my chest. Then his knowing fingers caressed my abdomen, my ribcage. And then, as he cupped my breasts in his hands, I inhaled sharply, and my stomach flipped.

Probing, searching, knowing what he wanted, he brought his hands to my shoulders, slid them down my tingling spine. Although I knew nothing about this man, I felt oddly trusting and expectant. This is a man, I thought. A man used to taking charge. A man not used to taking 'No' for an answer. A man who would tell me what he wanted. A man who had done this before—many, many times. A man who would look into my soul and say, "Okay ma'am, you can board your flight now."