An Open Letter To The Four Girls I Kissed Before I Became a Full-Fledged Sinner

I have always believed that the lips are the entry to the fiery gates of Hell, at least in terms of kissing. It’s the gateway organ, you know. People start out talking like it’s not a big deal; eventually, that leads to innocent pecks on the cheek or the mouth. The next thing you know, lips are all over the place and then there’s no praying that can save you from there. I remember a time when I could count the number of people I’d kissed on one hand. Those were simpler days… days when I never considered even asking people what their sexual background was because sexual backgrounds didn’t matter; we didn’t have one. Now there’s all these questions and awkward moments that we have to have with one another. That’s why I’m nearly celibate, not that it has anything to do with choice.

There’s that one point in all of our lives (well, most) that we spin out of control. We find out that we can kiss as many people as we like. We want to know how other people kiss and if everyone has an experience when someone licked their face (anyone, anyone?). Okay, maybe that was just a me thing. Anyway, before that moment in my life, there were only four girls that I had kissed: all very different, all very interesting in her own right. This is a letter to you.

To Whom It May Concern:

We don’t like to think we’re bad kissers, but out of the four of you, only one of you could actually kiss. I’m here to say thank you for starting me out at the lower end of the scale and to apologize for having to realize the quality of your kissing skills through such heinous, sinful ways. We’ll start off with the beginning. There’s no place like the Foothills Carmike 12 parking lot to experience your first kiss. At this point, I can’t remember who kissed whom, but I do remember the really intense and short make out sesh we had in your car following that kiss. I remember that it was completely daylight, and I remember watching the old people that walked passed by the car starting at us. Most of all, I remember that Patty Loveless’ “How Can I Help You To Say Goodbye” was playing on the radio; the only song about leaving and death that I would feel comfortable making out to again. For the record, you were the best kisser out of the bunch; I know you’d be proud of that. Thanks for keeping it somewhat PG rated, though I can’t remember the last time that I kissed someone when the sun was up.

As for the second, I’m fairly confident that you licked my face once, and I really wasn’t as into that as I originally said. Actually, I wasn’t really into that at all. I’m sure that by now, someone has addressed this issue. You’ve found the Lord, and I’ve found… other things, but I felt like it was important to let you know that kind of behavior is completely unacceptable in the Kirkland household. Though you are a fantastic person, your presentation was sloppy (though not the sloppiest), your execution was all over the place, and you reminded me of Ricky Bobby because you had absolutely no idea what to do with your hands. Though your intentions were sincere, your kissing made me uncomfortable and longing for a shower.

To the third, there was absolutely nothing wrong with your kissing, mostly because in the four months that we dated, I can’t actually remember a time that you kissed me back. Actually, the entire thing was a little rapey and made me feel really uncomfortable about our relationship. My parents absolutely loved you, but if I remember correctly, my parents never kissed you. I would always ask you if things were okay, if you were all right and you would always silently nod. I found myself feeling like somewhat of a  mouth prostitute that you had paid for and a face rapist. I hope that things have gotten more eventful for you or that you have found the appropriate nunnery.

Lastly, I would like to address the fourth. The only way I know how to describe it is in the context of the fourth definition of “bucknasty” on Urban Dictionary. Your definition of kissing would be the equivalent of how I imagine girl two would act if she were on bath salts. There was no precision. There was no focus, and I said a small prayer of thanks when you came within two inches of my mouth. I don’t believe in putting noses in mouths, and that’s why I never reciprocated that really awkward gesture that you found to be appropriate. I’ve always found the smell of the inside of someone’s mouth to be atrocious and knowing that I voluntarily let you eat my nose is something I will never be able to forgive myself for. I’m glad that you’re getting married, and I’m glad that I’ve learned boundaries.



5 thoughts on “An Open Letter To The Four Girls I Kissed Before I Became a Full-Fledged Sinner

  1. Although your writing is funny, it isn't cool to disclose personal information about people/insinuate their identities where people who may know them can see.

  2. I think it's hilarious and wonderful! If I was one of the people listed, I would be grateful for the constructive criticism.

  3. I really, REALLY loved this post, but what's more…I really loved these anonymous commenters above me.

    Justin, didn't you know that nice, polite, disinterested, and politically-correct pieces of literature attract the most attention?! You'll never get anywhere with your writing until you learn to say exactly what everyone else wants you to say, and bite your tongue until your breath smells like President Snow. Duh.

    All my love from Rocky Top,

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