I need to kiss. Or is it, I need to be kissed??
In either case, you know what I’m talking about — one of those kisses where the guy knows just how to cradle your head in his hands, and you don’t mind if he’s messing up your hair. A kiss with just the slightest bit of a five o’clock shadow for texture, but not necessarily tongue. An amazing (and perhaps intense) first-kiss kind of kiss that is surprisingly strong and sweet all at the same time.
Lately, it seems that every time I close my eyes I find myself right in the before and during of a great kiss… which isn’t a bad thing except generally I’m alone. You see, I’m just dreaming about it. Wishing for it. Is yearning to strong a word? I don’t want to come across as needy.
But I’d love to find myself in the midst of a fantastic first kiss. It’s been too long, and I blame film and television for stoking the fire… I mean, really? How many perfectly scripted moments does One really have in One’s life compared to the thousands One might watch every month? I don’t know if I’ve ever had a kiss like the one I’m describing, but I still WANT ONE. Why? Because I’ve seen it on the big screen, so it must exist. Right?
Yesterday I watched Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day. Set in 1939 London, Michael (the fabulous Lee Pace), plays a pianist and devoted suitor to Delysia, a self-absorbed upcoming starlet and singer who’s sleeping around in order to obtain a fabulous flat and a role in an upcoming play. In one scene, Michael seeks to physically shake Delysia out of her silly materialism and focus her on love – their love – which is the only honest and true love in her life. He does so by picking her up and plopping her on top of a piano and demanding that he choose: a life with him in America (he’s got two tickets in hand), a two-person show and Love, or a life left in London with men who truly don’t care for her and a career that hasn’t quite taken off yet.
He’s a man who knows what he wants, is completely confident in his feelings, and is self-assured enough to draw a line somewhere and be prepared to walk away if she can’t get her act together. But what got me was the intensity and the physicality – the actual act of using the movement of picking her up and thumping her down on the piano to place an additional emphasis on his words.
And this is me: “Oh! Yes, please! I’ll forsake the other men and run away with you to America!”
But first? Let’s see about that kiss…