I love kissing, and I’ve exclaimed over and over again that 2026 should be the year of the kiss. I’ve also justified several decisions by explaining that it’s the year of the horse, but that’s neither here nor there. I love kissing with the enthusiasm of a middle schooler who just discovered the pleasures of locking lips. The playful kisses when you’re a little tipsy or just drunk on life, the lingering moment at the end of a first date, goodbye kisses and good morning kisses and the dance floor makeout with the best hits of 2016 playing in the background, knowing that tomorrow morning’s debrief with your girlfriends is going to be fantastic. Of course, I’m not the first person to proclaim my love of kissing, and definitely not the one to do it most eloquently. Feifei’s The Art of Kissing is one of my favourite pieces on Substack (and I’m not alone, it has gotten over 15,000 likes), Caroline Beuley reminded me of the joys of snogging a stranger at the club in You Have to Dance and Ismene Ormonde’s how do you start kissing someone? is part of the reason why I’ve gone on a kissing bender at the start of the year (with no plans to slow down anytime soon).
My first kiss…
or at least my first real one. Not the playground pecks, but the real deal. I remember the anxious anticipation of having your first kiss. The neuroticism, wondering if you would know what to do when the moment came. The silent disbelief when people told you instinct would take over. Staying up late at camp, helping my friend sneak away in the dark and hanging on to every word once she was back and giving us a play-by-play. My first kiss happened when I was visiting a friend in Vienna, I guess Klimt’s work made an impression. It wasn’t premeditated, which would surprise anyone who knew my fourteen-year-old self because that girl was a planner. He was a friend of hers, I remember thinking he was one of the nicest boys I’d ever met. We both tasted like Peach Schnapps, syrupy-sweet liquid courage.
On kissing strangers
I’ve had my fair share of kissing strangers. I might even be an expert. If the dance floor make-out is an Olympic sport, call me Alysa Liu. I give gold-medal-worthy performances with a smile on my face. You’ve been making eyes from across the room. You smile, look down, they’re still looking when you check again. An exchange of words is not always necessary; you’re dancing to the same music. You thrive in the liminal space between strangers and something else. It doesn’t always happen in the dark and after midnight. Sometimes it’s under the scorching sun, there’s sweat and glitter and beer involved. It’s almost choreographed, you move in sync, high on life, and as you run to catch up with your friends, you declare that this is your favourite holiday.
On kissing friends
It’s late and you’ve had a few drinks, someone spins a bottle. It’s New Year’s eve and you make eye contact during the countdown, and figure what the hell, it’s meant to be good luck. You’ve been flirting and toeing the line for years, and your friends are sick of hearing you talk about this, about him, and you’ve exhausted yourself on the subject. You’ve been left alone with him so many times, and nothing ever happened, so you let it go. You convince yourself that you imagined the tension, you go back to just being friendly. You tell yourself it was a lapse in judgment, a trick of the light. Months pass, and you toe the line again, flirting over fries because you don’t want to go to the airport alone. You ride the train together, hug goodbye, you’re getting on a plane in an hour, fuck it.
On kissing lovers
The moment before the kiss that defies the laws of physics. The forehead kiss in the morning is infinitely more intimate than sex the night before. Kisses on the wrist, a palm, the crook of a neck, never just the means to an end. A barely audible whisper. A body memorised. An oscillating intensity, a familiar hello, goodbye.
On future kisses
If I keep randomly running into you, I think the universe wants us to kiss. I don’t make the rules. If we used to kiss on a regular basis, and I have a drink and you flirt a little, I will probably kiss you again. If it’s Carnaval and we make eye contact and you smile, I’m kissing you too. If it’s raining and I’m feeling cold and a little dramatic, I’ll look at your lips and hope you get the hint because I’ve made the first move too much lately. A kiss just for fun, or because I've missed you. A kiss to get them out of your system. A kiss that makes you realise you are so screwed.