Kiss of Death

I remember my first kiss.

And how severely disappointed I was (and extremely giddy, but I chalk that up to the fact that it was 5 AM, and I had been standing on my front porch for six hours staring in abject terror at the object of my first-kiss-to-be).

Up to that point, the kisses I had bestowed upon my cat were, to say the least, dry and, at least seemed to be, fairly sanitary (Jeremy would disagree, and if I ever kissed Pepper, he would no doubt insist that I purify myself in boiling hydrogen peroxide).

Which isn't to say that the fellow involved was gross or non-hypoallergenic, but I was 18 and had left all the wonders of kissing up to my imagination and filled in the blanks with all the Hollywood Rom-Coms I could shove in on any given weekend.

I immediately told Debbie (who was very happy for him, since she had been routing for the poor boy since he first had a crush on me when he was 11) and Dave, and Dave (who seemed happy for said poor boy too, but mostly amused by my reaction) said, "It's the anticipation that's the best part."

It all fell into place at that point. All those years of thinking that something magical and illuminating was going to happen all disintegrated in .02 seconds with the realization that kissing was mostly awkward and wet.

Other people across the centuries must have felt the same way, and that is why they invented the Peck.

Dry, sanitary, and brief.

My kind of kiss!

Jeremy and I have been Pecking for years (sounds terrible when I put it that way, but there it is).

"Goodnight, Darling!" "Goodnight, Darling!" *PECK*

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

This has been our ritual every night for a long time.

And then something happened.

I don't know when, but the Peck became more than just an indication of spousal affection. It became a multi-faceted language all of its own.

"Goodnight!" *peck* Interpreted: Gosh, I'm sleepy...leave me alone.

"Goodnight!" *PECK* Interpreted: I am going to spend the next hour staring at you and giggling while you try to sleep and I am going to randomly tickle/bite/kick you as soon as your breathing slows down and I know you are asleep.

"Goodnight!" *Peck* Interpreted: Goodnight

I could go on and on, but you get the point.

I suddenly realized one day that my Peck was my way of telling Jeremy that yes, I loved him, and yes, I knew he loved me, but I didn't have time or energy or desire or whatever to show him in any other way that I cared. I was in the habit of just bestowing a mere flake of affection, and thinking it was good.

It wasn't.

It was the metaphorical Kiss of Death to our romance.

Life had gone from being fun and exciting as a couple, to being a repetitive cycle of laundry, dishes, diapers, chores, errands, and everything else that is part of that old grindstone. When did I forget to care about romance??

I decided at that point that if I was ever going to give Jeremy a Peck again, I was going to make it a GOOD one.

So, Jeremy came home from work, and he came over to give me his "Hi, I am home, and I am tired, hungry, irritable, and worn out, but I am going to Peck you so that we can move on and have dinner" Peck, and I held onto his head as he did so and counted to three.

The moths that had long ago taken residence in my stomach after the Love Butterflies moved out, got all jumpy.

OOO!

I could have sworn I heard them in Jeremy's tummy, too, but it may have just been growling.

Just think of how happy we would all be if we Pecked our spouse for three seconds, three times a day! A mere nine seconds a day! 54.75 minutes a year! Not too shabby. And after 50 years of marriage, it would be...45.625 hours. Wow! Almost two whole days! Ha ha ha!

Anyway...I feel it is really important to keep that spark alive. It's hard. It really, really is. But, a little effort can do wonders. At least, it seems to be so for me.