Bad Kisser

Did Cinderella ever have to crawl away from Prince Charming? Did Snow White ever forfeit her right to awaken because PC was a sloppy kisser? No! Fairy tales gave each little girl these false allusions that each precious kiss shared with her man would lead to happily ever after. They never warned us it’s almost certain we’ll encounter one, if not many, life scarring scores with the guy we thought would be our Prince Charming.

Guys, to get the girl, you’ve got to master the ability to kiss. It’s the fuel to the hook up fire. If you’re hoping to advance anywhere with women, learn the art of making out. If you don’t, you’ll end up in this situation….

Its four a.m. I’m in someone else’s bathroom, shaking off the feelings of violation and disgust. I’m still fully clothed and thankfully just embarked on my conquest that was waiting outside the bathroom door. How did I get myself into this predicament? By trusting my gut feeling, that’s how! Side note ladies always look for tell-tell signs of a good kisser. We’re talking big lips, knows how and when to touch you, and isn’t an eager beaver. I, however, made a rookie mistake and went in for the kill without fully evaluating the situation.

He was a master of laying groundwork: great personality, made me feel comfortable in his apartment, didn’t allude to the big pink hook up elephant looming in the corner, and played the nice guy card for a respectable amount of time. Alas, despite his best efforts, when purse came to pucker…epic fail. It was one of those awkward initial starts with a peck, peck, tongue lash, peck, peck. Oh god, the memory. Find your rhythm and stick to it!!! Every girl knows the “pull away” trick, used just for kicks and to see the guy yearn for more. However, this pull away was in desperation and used as an escape tactic. Worst decision ever. While pulling away I opened my eyes to witness his face coming at me. Eyes closed, lips puckered, we’re talking full on fish face making a bead line for mine. LAST STRAW! Abort, abort, abort. When I attempted to wiggle out of his grasp, he assumed we were playing “wrestle fight.” I had to resort to crawling, desperate times ladies, desperate times. Finally escaping to the bathroom, where my story began.