Monday, October 10, 2011

Kissing Ken

I gave up dating in 2007.  I give lots of reasons for this:  I make poor choices; there aren't any "right for me" men out there; I have no time; I just don't meet eligible men.  The truth, though, is simply that I ran out of energy.

My job is emotionally stressful and demanding and by the time I leave it at the end of the day, I am emotionally bankrupt.  Yes, the thought of going home to someone who would rub my feet and shoulders, bring me a drink, and provide scintillating dinner conversation, while asking nothing of me is enticing, but I  doubt that Stepford Husbands actually exist.

So I continue merrily along on my solo journey through life, rubbing my own feet, mixing my own drinks, and reading scintillating books over dinner.  This is not a bad deal.  Turns out that a partner is actually needed rarely.

Companionship?  I have tons of fabulous friends, many of them male, so I get both male and female companionship regularly.

Sex?  Let's just say I keep my bedside table well-stocked with batteries.  (I didn't say there weren't differences; I said a partner isn't necessary.)

Moving furniture/dealing with the occasional rodent/etc.?  Friends, neighbors, cats.

Truth be told, though, there is one glitch in all this.  One significant glitch.  Kissing requires two people.  And I love kissing.  I've been known to break up with wonderful men because they weren't good kissers.  And to stay with ... less than wonderful men ... because they were.  In my book, kissing is a true art form, a thing of beauty, something that, done right, can take my breath away and buckle my knees more surely than an incredible sunset or a stunning mountain view.  Kissing isn't just the lead-up to the main event, it is A Main Event on its own.  And there is no replacement for it.

So for the past several weeks, I've been walking around with a blissed-out smile on my face.  I wake up in a better mood.  I have happy dreams.  I've been doing a LOT of kissing!

Nope, I've not had a date.  I've not been hanging out in bars, making out with strangers after midnight.  I've been leading my normal, relationship-free life.  But I've been doing a play.

One can do tons and tons of theatre and rarely kiss others (plus, most stage kisses are brief and quite circumspect).  I've been doing shows my entire adult life without ever having more than a handful of stage kisses, and none of those were particularly memorable.  And then along came this play.  And Ken.

The script itself calls for a lot of kissing and some of it is required to be passionate.  NICE!  That, however, turned out to be just the start.  In general, actors might peck at each other in early rehearsals, and it's not uncommon for them to delay the actual kissing in scenes until weeks into the process.  Not Ken!  At the very first rehearsal, the first kiss called for in the script saw him marching over and planting one on me.  And the passionate kissing became more and more passionate each time.  Need I add that he is a very good kisser?  (No - it's not French kissing - it IS acting.)  Meanwhile, we started adding in more kisses.  A scene that calls for three kisses now probably has six.  We even threw one in for the curtain call!  And there are the "break-a-leg" kisses before each performance, the "hello" and "goodbye" kisses each night ... apparently I'm trying to make up for a four-year dry spell in a period of two months ... and coming damned close to doing so!

True, none of these are deep, soul-searching, brain-melting kisses, but they are wonderful, nonetheless.  However, these will end next weekend when the show closes.  And therein lies the problem - now I'm about to be bereft of kisses once again.  What to do??  How to fix this??  Anyone need a volunteer to (wo)man a kissing booth?

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