First Kisses

Annie Savoy: What do you believe in, then?

Crash Davis: Well, I believe in the soul, the cock, the pussy, the small of a woman's back, the hanging curve ball, high fiber, good scotch, that the novels of Susan Sontag are self-indulgent, overrated crap. I believe Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone. I believe there ought to be a constitutional amendment outlawing Astroturf and the designated hitter. I believe in the sweet spot, soft-core pornography, opening your presents Christmas morning rather than Christmas Eve and I believe in long, slow, deep, soft, wet kisses that last three days. [pause] Crash Davis: Goodnight.

Annie Savoy: Oh my. Crash...

Ebby Calvin LaLoosh: Hey, Annie, what's all this molecule stuff?

- Bull Durham


First kisses should be rarified, mystical things. The first time you kiss somebody, you should feel the need for that kiss gathering like a layer of hot magma in the belly of a volcano. You are functioning and talking and listening but underneath it all is a mantra that says kiss her kiss her kiss her for the love of God kiss her!

You can work up to it all night or it can just catch you in an instant. Somehow that person passes, a full moon, right into your gravitational field, stirring within you a million microscopic cellular oceans, pulling their tides inexorably toward her. And you do. You put your hands on her face, or grab her by the arm, or you lean in. You kiss her.

A really good first kiss feels like falling. Feels like smiling. Like the embrace of a perfect blanket in front of a perfect fireplace. A good first kiss will elicit a swoony feeling.

Swoony feelings are highly underrated.

To kiss someone at the end of a first date simply because that’s what you think you’re supposed to do, that’s like throwing away a golden ticket to Willie Wonka’s chocolate factory. It’s a sin and a waste.

First kisses are worth waiting for. The good ones are.