Whiskey Notes and Parachuting Fish

I have one deal breaker. Mae West says kissing is a man’s signature. Signature or not, it also tells you everything you need to know about a man. 1 Year, 10 Projects, 100 Discoveries started with 10 Guys, 10 Weeks, 10 Drinks. The sequel is 10 Kisses, 10 Tastes. This post is part of that project. You can see all 10 kisses here and the entire project here. Get ready to pucker up, I am!

For my month long trip to Europe, I had a few goals. One of them was to kiss a local in each destination. I was very strict on the criteria for this goal. Outside of the project, there were no rules, but for the kiss to count towards my 10 Kisses project, it had to be every destination. It had to be a guy. It had to be a true local, no transplants allowed. No Americans who were visiting, no Italians who were backpacking through, no Latinos who were living in London for an extended period of time. Nope, this project was pure and so the men involved had to be “pure” as well.

In London, the men were very American. It was the one place I went in Europe where I felt like I was getting ready to run a race – stretch, shake your arms out, bounce up and down and put your game face on. And, it was the one place I was worried about rejection. Like America, in London, the men at the bars were in their own world. They were cocky and more into their clique of friends than the lone girl at the bar. It was a strange, uncomfortable feeling. I mean, how dare you not flirt with me 🙂

Unlike the other countries, in England, I set my sights on a particularly man. I was bound and determined that he would be kiss #6 for this project. I put my game face on and sauntered up to him and his friends at the bar. I played The Game. Maybe I wasn’t quite on that night. Maybe I had eaten too many pastries in Paris 🙂 Maybe I played it too coy and aloof. But, for whatever reason, Ryan (not his real name) didn’t take the bait. I was shocked.

The taste of rejection? It stings for just a minute. It puts a hard, nondescript taste in your mouth, like the taste you get when you’re thirsty. Most of all, after the sting is gone, it puts a determination in your step to do it better next time; to not fail. And the next time? Let’s just say I conquered a Tarzan of a man 😉

I have one deal breaker. Mae West says kissing is a man’s signature. Signature or not, it also tells you everything you need to know about a man. 1 Year, 10 Projects, 100 Discoveries started with 10 Guys, 10 Weeks, 10 Drinks. The sequel is 10 Kisses, 10 Tastes. This post is part of that project. You can see all 10 kisses here and the entire project here. Get ready to pucker up, I am!

It never ceases to amaze me, but when you least expect it, love strikes. Walking along the Seine River outside Norte Dame, was where I found the French man, Pierre (not his real name). I smiled and he gifted me a pink Eiffel Tower keychain before asking if I wanted to go for a drink; an expresso that is. Well, not exactly, but I can’t remember what he called it in French. Needless to say, it was coffee, not alcohol.

Pierre spoke seven languages, so we communicated in a combination of broken French, English and Spanish, mixing the languages in a single sentence to understand each other. After drinks, we walked holding hands and cuddling. He first kissed me on a park bench across from the Cathedrale Norte Dame. As we walked under the bridges along the Seine, Pierre said he loved me in all three languages- je’taime, love, te quiero. When he asked if I loved him, I laughed and replied, “No. Maybe like.” His face fell with hurt, but he kissed me again anyway.

There’s a rumor that French men are great lovers. While I could tell Pierre would be good and attentive in bed, French kisses just aren’t my speed. Sloppy, aggressive and tasting of salty cinnamon, I think I’ll cross kisses from French men off my list for now.

I have one deal breaker. Mae West says kissing is a man’s signature. Signature or not, it also tells you everything you need to know about a man. 1 Year, 10 Projects, 100 Discoveries started with 10 Guys, 10 Weeks, 10 Drinks. The sequel is 10 Kisses, 10 Tastes. This post is part of that project. You can see all 10 kisses here and the entire project here. Get ready to pucker up, I am!

There’s nothing more romantic than watching lovers greet each other at the airport after a trip; a long journey apart. It’s something I’ve always wanted to be a part of, but has never quite fit.

While there’s no slow running or cheesy signs held up like in the movies, there is excitement, nervousness and comfort. Knowing someone is not only waiting for you but also excited to see you is a pretty cool feeling that embodies all of the above emotions. Duncan (not his real name) was waiting for me at the bottom of the escalators, but, I accidently snuck by him. As luck would have it, my sneakiness landed us in a much more secluded area; one perfect for my first “welcome home” kiss.

And the kiss? Well, the kiss encapsulates all those emotions as well. There’s excitement over the anticipation of it and in the hunger when your two tongues finally meet. There’s nervousness wondering, “will it feel the same?” And during the kiss, there’s comfort in knowing the familiar taste of someone that’s tinged with a hint of excitement, extra mint and cologne that’s just a little stronger than normal.

After the kiss? Well, let’s just say there were seven red lights on my car ride home.

I have one deal breaker. Mae West says kissing is a man’s signature. Signature or not, it also tells you everything you need to know about a man. 1 Year, 10 Projects, 100 Discoveries started with 10 Guys, 10 Weeks, 10 Drinks. The sequel is 10 Kisses, 10 Tastes. This post is part of that project. You can see all 10 kisses here and the entire project here. Get ready to pucker up, I am!

With 10 kisses, I seem to be changing and making the rules as I go. Unlike 10 Guys, 10 Weeks, 10 Drinks, 10 Kisses, 10 Tastes doesn’t necessarily have to be with different guys, they just have to be different kisses. When you start to think and be cognizant about it, almost every kiss is different, even when it’s with the same person. Maybe that’s why kissing is so fun; the taste is always a mystery.

I hate goodbyes. Among friends, I’m famous for always doing the Irish Goodbye. Needless to say, goodbye kisses taste bitter sweet. With goodbye kisses, you know they’re coming and you dread and yearn for them at the same time. I knew the goodbye kiss with Duncan (not his real name) was coming hours before it happened. I like to think we both tried to stretch the drive back to my place out as long as possible.

The best and worst part of a goodbye kiss? The aftermath. Alone again, it’s eerily quiet. The quiet is nice, but at the same time you miss the warmth of the other person. You find yourself wanting to see them again. And surprisingly, I find myself caring just when I might see him again.