Kiss me, kiss me

I love kissing. I love the sheer sensuality of it. And I love the different dimensions of it.

A kiss between loved ones or friends is an innocent and beautiful experience. It is affectionate, trusting, playful. It says I like you, I enjoy your company, I want to share myself with you. It says my soul wants to kiss your soul.

But a kiss is also the classic sign of an illicit relationship. An over-intimate kiss between two supposed acquaintances suggests something much deeper, something sexual.

However much you deny it, it speaks for itself. There's something going on here, something that shouldn't be going on. Or maybe something that should be going on, but it's going to hurt somebody else badly.

Then there are the kisses you don't really want to give at all. You're a bit reluctant to kiss granny or grandpa because, well, they're a bit wrinkly and funny-looking, and kissing all those wrinkles and saggy bits might feel a bit yukky. But after all, it's granny, so you overcome your squeamishness and give her a nice big kiss. And she really appreciates it.

And of course there are the people you're just dying to kiss, desperate to kiss, but you can't because they're remote celebs, or they're your boss, or your student, or you're sure they'd run a mile, or they're uptight straight men, or they just jilted you, or they're complete strangers in Sainsbury's.

There was a guy* who set out to kiss a complete stranger every day for a year - because he thought it was such a delightful and friendly thing to do. And he managed it. He recorded the reactions of all the people he kissed. Surprise, amusement, embarrassment, happiness, gratitude, flirtation. It was touching and heartwarming.

The human body is just made for kissing. The textures, the contours, the pliability. I'll happily kiss just about anywhere, from the forehead to the ankle and most spots in between. Whoever invented kissing was a genius.

* the wonderful Philip Thiel from Melbourne 

Kiss and tell

How do you fancy kissing someone new every day for a year? And recording how you felt about it - and how the other person felt about it? Fun or not fun?

Philip Thiel is doing just that during 2010, and telling us all about it in his Melbourne-based blog. It's fascinating reading.

Every year since 2005, he has devoted the year to daily activities around an offbeat theme. One year he gave someone a flower each day. Another year he followed someone each day. He has also written daily poetry, written about saints, and done 365 different things with lemons.

His partner Julien calls him a blog artist, which is about right. The idea of using your blog to elaborate artistic concepts is an interesting variation on the usual themes.

03 May 2010: "Bonjour, bonjour!" Our standard greeting was given with its usual level of campness. Was it this banterish Frenchness that allowed for my spontaneous request? "Kiss me!" I suggested, leaning over the desk and puckering grotesquely. Kay fluttered nearer, I leant further, and - after a few unbalanced seconds - we brushed lips. Sensing that an explanation was in order, I said "I just won a poetry competition!"

29 April 2010: Ka Fam was raving about the kiss, seemingly surprised that someone as pale as me could generate such hotness. To Julien he said "Your boyfriend is such a good kisser! I'm still trying to oxygenate myself!" The priceless look on my husband's face.

Curiously, it seems nobody has yet refused point blank to be kissed. Nobody has said "Kiss me? Are you insane? Get away from me, you nasty creature." Nobody has slapped him or struck him with a handbag. Everybody has been amused and intrigued by his invitation.

Of course it helps that he's a very personable young man and not some alcoholic old lecher. He can kiss me any time he likes, though that might be a bit tricky when there's 10,000 miles between us.

Pic: Philip Thiel