Steph
02-11-2006, 09:11 AM
OK, I'm not the most mushy person in the world but I'm reading an awesome article in the Toronto Star about kisses.
Love has so many faces
It was just a few lines in the paper a month ago, asking about your most memorable kiss, and you've been sending us your stories ever since
Feb. 11, 2006. 07:53 AM
NANCY J. WHITE
LIFE WRITER
A kiss is not just a kiss. Some are memorable, the details lingering as time goes by.
We asked readers to tell us the story of their most remembered kiss, be it good or bad, a sizzler or a fizzler, a steamy romantic embrace or even a treasured parent-child display of affection. What makes a kiss withstand the test of time?
Here is a pre-Valentine's sampler of stand-out smooches.
I thought it only happened in movies, but it happened to me. In the summer of 1966, I had just turned 20 and went with a girlfriend to a lodge in Bala for the weekend. At dinner time, the dining room was full, so the lodge owner seated us at a table where two young men from Scotland would be sitting. After a bit, the owner brought over the men. When I looked up at the one, my heart skipped a million beats. His eyes absolutely sparkled when he smiled at me. We couldn't take our eyes off each other.
After dinner we went for a long walk. I found it so easy to talk to him. At the end of the evening, he kissed me. I thought my legs were going to give out from under me. I felt like butter melting in his arms. I had dated a number of young men, but none had ever had this effect on me. His kiss was so warm, his lips so soft and gentle, that I thought I was being consumed.
I married this wonderful man a little over a year later. We had three handsome sons and spent 31 years together before he passed away suddenly of a massive heart attack in 1998. He would tell me that no one would ever love me the way he did, and he was right.
Sheryl Tufnell, Bolton
We had not seen each other for six months. He had chosen a new love. At 17, my heart had been crushed, and I yearned for him every minute of every day. Then we met unexpectedly at my cousin's on Christmas evening. We went out together for a walk.
Forty-four years later, that winter walk and that kiss are still etched in my heart. The moon was shining, the snow was crisp under foot, my heart was in turmoil, and then it happened. He stopped suddenly, took me in his arms and kissed me. Oh, a very chaste kiss, but powerful enough to melt the snow under my feet. The tears ran down my cheeks as we kissed some more. In the heat of the moment, he pledged to leave his other love and return to me. I was ecstatic.
A few days later, he returned to the seminary and to his lifelong love.
Mariette Tremblay, Bobcaygeon
My boyfriend and I dated for a month before kissing and there was definitely anticipation. That night of the kiss, we had plenty of romantic opportunities, soaking in the hot tub, watching a movie on the couch and, finally, saying goodbye at the door. I knew it had to be then, so I went for it.
And it was awful. Hands were everywhere except the right places, lips were dry, tongues were nervous. I left thinking, "That was the worst kiss of my life."
That was more than a year ago and we're still together. The kisses got better. I no longer believe the first kiss is the most important. It's easy to like someone who is a great kisser. But to get past a truly awful first kiss? That takes the kind of strength relationships are built on.
Anonymous
In November 1996, my wife Mary Anne gave birth to our third child, a boy we named Jeremiah. The next day at work my mother-in-law called me crying, saying Mary Anne needed me at the hospital. She had just been told that Jeremiah had Down syndrome. An occasion full of joy and celebration quickly gave way to fear and mourning. Fear of the unknown and sadness for the loss of our dreams.
When I entered the hospital room, my wife was visibly upset and Jeremiah was at the foot of the bed wrapped in a blanket. Mary Anne and I embraced.
I picked up Jeremiah and I kissed him. With that kiss, I could feel my fears melt away. This child was no different, simply a baby depending on the love of his parents. Over the years, Jeremiah has been through a lot, open heart surgery and eye operations, but his loving disposition has remained constant. He is 9 years old now and daily showers his "Momma" and "Dadee" with kisses, kisses we will never take for granted.
Brad Robinson, Barrie
In the summer of 1940, I was a 15-year-old visiting a friend's Bolton farm when I met Albert Edward Crocker. He was 16 and living on the adjoining farm. From our first meeting over a Chinese checkers game, there was a special attraction. He was tall, slim and had the greenest eyes I'd ever seen.
We kept up a correspondence after I returned home and we had a few brief visits. In 1942 he arrived at my door in Merritton dressed in uniform. He had joined The Irish Regiment of Canada. A very handsome soldier. We went to a movie and, back home, found ourselves alone. My mother had gone to bingo and my father was working nights at the steel plant. It was a cold, rainy night and we huddled over the coal heater after coming inside.
I found myself folded in Albert's arms. The kiss followed. We had kissed before, but this was different...sweet, warm, tender and long. Delicious thrilling shock waves raced through my veins and my knees had an unfamiliar pleasant weakness.
Along with desire came panic to a naïve teenage girl. I fled to the safety of the kitchen and shakily poured glasses of milk and made up a plate of butter tarts. After Albert was sent overseas, our letters sometimes referred to "the evening of the butter tarts" and we both remembered that very special kiss.
Albert was killed in France on June 11, 1944. Our future together was not meant to be. Later, I lost all his treasured letters and photos in a house fire. Even today, as an 81-year-old great-grandmother, I still have fond memories of that very special kiss one rainy night back in 1942.
Lois Field Morrow, Huntsville
For spring break in 1979, I went with four university girlfriends from Illinois to Florida, where we rented a two-room efficiency. One night, we went to the biggest disco club in Clearwater. By the end of the night, I found myself with only one friend, the other three were nowhere in sight. The two nice Canadian guys we'd been dancing with drove us back to our efficiency. As the guys were leaving, the one who'd been my dancing partner kissed me goodbye. It was a long, long kiss. It was a lingering kiss that felt different, magical, like a life-changing moment. Do people fall in love with one kiss? I would say yes.
He was back the next day, his last in Florida. We exchanged addresses. I told him I would be graduating soon and had a job waiting for me. He said he would visit.
I graduated that May. After a congratulatory dinner with friends and family, I insisted on leaving for my new apartment. My parents were baffled by my rush.
The next day, I waited. Finally, around 5 p.m., my Canadian knocked on the door. At first, it was awkward. He had driven the entire 14 hours from Kincardine, Ont., to Springfield, Ill. He was tired. I was nervous. But it was okay, after that kiss. Our kiss. It was the same long, lingering kiss that still felt exciting and life-changing.
We married in June, 1981. I left my family and friends to live in Canada with him and we had two children. Last year, we took our 17-year-old son with us to Florida. We went back to where the efficiency had been. It's a condo now, but we were sure it was the same spot. Our son just rolled his eyes at us and went back to the car. We stood there and kissed.
Gail Clark, Enniskillen
An old boyfriend and I had decided to go out for dinner. He was the first breakup that had left a huge hole in my heart and I was hoping this dinner would lead to "us" again. We had a great evening and, at the end of it, he gently took my face between his hands and gave me a kiss — on the forehead. I knew then there wasn't a chance.
Anonymous
Almost 15 years ago, my father was lying in a hospital bed, paralyzed by a stroke and unable to talk. My father, an Englishman's Englishman educated at Cambridge, lived to love my mother. It was almost Christmas and he always got her something special, so I did it for him. I found an elegant pair of earrings and got a card and a stamp pad. At the hospital I stamped the card with his fingerprint, signing it, "With love."
I bent close to his face and asked my father if it was good enough. His eyes watered and his lips touched my cheek and I heard a gurgled, "I love you." I kissed him back and, in that kiss, I felt all the love for my father, my friend. It was the most incredible moment of my life with my father. He died a few weeks later, but I knew I had connected with him on a very deep and personal level and I shall always cherish that kiss.
Peter Stanton, Newmarket
While working long hours at my summer job, I became good friends with a co-worker. After closing shifts, we'd go for coffee at a nearby Tim Hortons and sit, talk and laugh for hours. I realized I'd developed deep feelings for him.
After Tim Hortons closed one night, we went to my car to talk some more. The radio was turned on and the song "Truly, Madly, Deeply" by Savage Garden played. He walked over to the driver's side, opened the door and asked me to dance. He turned up the volume and, at 2:30 a.m. in an empty parking lot with a light drizzle of rain, we danced. As I put my head against his chest, I felt so comfortable. After the song ended, we still held each other in silence, rain falling, cars passing and just us. Then he kissed me. Sweet. Passionate. Absolutely amazing.
Ever since that night last August, we've been together and couldn't be happier. When "Truly, Madly, Deeply" comes on the radio, we smile at each other and remember that night dancing in the middle of an empty parking lot.
Marie Azzopardi, Toronto
I spent a week in the French West Indies visiting a friend. She introduced me to a Frenchman who spent quite a bit of his time taking me around to the local sites. He was very polite and reserved.
At the end of the week, my friend, along with the Frenchman and two of his buddies, brought me to the airport. While saying all my goodbyes, I went up to my French "guide" and gave him the customary pecks on the cheeks — and then I planted a big one on his surprised lips. As I walked away smiling, he stood there looking stunned with his friends laughing.
I boarded the plane and the rest is history. We were married a year later.
Christine Trillard, Oakwood
Our love was a forbidden one.
She was Jewish. I was Indian. Her parents wanted her to be with a Jewish guy. My parents wanted a nice Indian girl for me.
But we knew each other and, one day, our eyes met across a crowded mall. She sat with her friends and I sat with mine. I could not keep my eyes off her. I was captivated by her beauty. She somehow later got my number from a friend and we met. That is when the magic began.
Our first kiss, or maybe it wasn't our first....Maybe we were together in another life, for that is how it felt.
Her hair draped around us, making the rest of the world disappear. Nothing else was present, just her beautiful eyes looking deep into mine. Then our lips touched. They tasted like the most exotic fruit. It was not a fierce kiss, but deep and enduring, the way one would sip the most magnificent wine. Time froze until we came up for air.
To this day, even though we are not together, we are as close as two people can be.
Anonymous
It was 35 years ago and I was in love. He sat in front of me in Grade 9 math. I couldn't tell you how long it took him to notice me. It didn't matter. All I knew was that I was near him and I got to see him every day.
He was extremely tall, I was very short. He was irreverent, I followed all the rules. He was so smart, he never needed to open a book, my marks were...well, you know. He was too funny and I laughed at every word that came out of his mouth.
About five years ago at an annual function, it just came out of my mouth, the reunion classic, "You know I was in love with you in high school." He took a deep breath and gently replied, "Yeah. I got that."
Then, as if a force took hold of both of us, we leaned into one another, at the same slow motion speed. His eyes were wide open and he was looking into mine, like I had never let anyone look before. Until the exact moment, I still didn't know if we were going to kiss. I was just being pulled in by those eyes. Our lips met, holding onto each other in the gentlest of ways. Forty people disappeared and The Stones went silent. It ended as quickly as it began. No one seemed to notice that the world had just changed.
They say that lightning never strikes twice. For me, it strikes yearly.
Anonymous
It happened last summer after my 6-year-old son's soccer game. He reached down on the grass and plucked out a dandelion flower. He said, "Mommy, close your eyes and bend down." I did as was requested and he looked into my eyes.
"Mommy," he said, "I think I'm falling in love with you." He gave me the flower and then he kissed me.
That is and will always be my most memorable kiss.
Maria Battiston, Maple
Love has so many faces
It was just a few lines in the paper a month ago, asking about your most memorable kiss, and you've been sending us your stories ever since
Feb. 11, 2006. 07:53 AM
NANCY J. WHITE
LIFE WRITER
A kiss is not just a kiss. Some are memorable, the details lingering as time goes by.
We asked readers to tell us the story of their most remembered kiss, be it good or bad, a sizzler or a fizzler, a steamy romantic embrace or even a treasured parent-child display of affection. What makes a kiss withstand the test of time?
Here is a pre-Valentine's sampler of stand-out smooches.
I thought it only happened in movies, but it happened to me. In the summer of 1966, I had just turned 20 and went with a girlfriend to a lodge in Bala for the weekend. At dinner time, the dining room was full, so the lodge owner seated us at a table where two young men from Scotland would be sitting. After a bit, the owner brought over the men. When I looked up at the one, my heart skipped a million beats. His eyes absolutely sparkled when he smiled at me. We couldn't take our eyes off each other.
After dinner we went for a long walk. I found it so easy to talk to him. At the end of the evening, he kissed me. I thought my legs were going to give out from under me. I felt like butter melting in his arms. I had dated a number of young men, but none had ever had this effect on me. His kiss was so warm, his lips so soft and gentle, that I thought I was being consumed.
I married this wonderful man a little over a year later. We had three handsome sons and spent 31 years together before he passed away suddenly of a massive heart attack in 1998. He would tell me that no one would ever love me the way he did, and he was right.
Sheryl Tufnell, Bolton
We had not seen each other for six months. He had chosen a new love. At 17, my heart had been crushed, and I yearned for him every minute of every day. Then we met unexpectedly at my cousin's on Christmas evening. We went out together for a walk.
Forty-four years later, that winter walk and that kiss are still etched in my heart. The moon was shining, the snow was crisp under foot, my heart was in turmoil, and then it happened. He stopped suddenly, took me in his arms and kissed me. Oh, a very chaste kiss, but powerful enough to melt the snow under my feet. The tears ran down my cheeks as we kissed some more. In the heat of the moment, he pledged to leave his other love and return to me. I was ecstatic.
A few days later, he returned to the seminary and to his lifelong love.
Mariette Tremblay, Bobcaygeon
My boyfriend and I dated for a month before kissing and there was definitely anticipation. That night of the kiss, we had plenty of romantic opportunities, soaking in the hot tub, watching a movie on the couch and, finally, saying goodbye at the door. I knew it had to be then, so I went for it.
And it was awful. Hands were everywhere except the right places, lips were dry, tongues were nervous. I left thinking, "That was the worst kiss of my life."
That was more than a year ago and we're still together. The kisses got better. I no longer believe the first kiss is the most important. It's easy to like someone who is a great kisser. But to get past a truly awful first kiss? That takes the kind of strength relationships are built on.
Anonymous
In November 1996, my wife Mary Anne gave birth to our third child, a boy we named Jeremiah. The next day at work my mother-in-law called me crying, saying Mary Anne needed me at the hospital. She had just been told that Jeremiah had Down syndrome. An occasion full of joy and celebration quickly gave way to fear and mourning. Fear of the unknown and sadness for the loss of our dreams.
When I entered the hospital room, my wife was visibly upset and Jeremiah was at the foot of the bed wrapped in a blanket. Mary Anne and I embraced.
I picked up Jeremiah and I kissed him. With that kiss, I could feel my fears melt away. This child was no different, simply a baby depending on the love of his parents. Over the years, Jeremiah has been through a lot, open heart surgery and eye operations, but his loving disposition has remained constant. He is 9 years old now and daily showers his "Momma" and "Dadee" with kisses, kisses we will never take for granted.
Brad Robinson, Barrie
In the summer of 1940, I was a 15-year-old visiting a friend's Bolton farm when I met Albert Edward Crocker. He was 16 and living on the adjoining farm. From our first meeting over a Chinese checkers game, there was a special attraction. He was tall, slim and had the greenest eyes I'd ever seen.
We kept up a correspondence after I returned home and we had a few brief visits. In 1942 he arrived at my door in Merritton dressed in uniform. He had joined The Irish Regiment of Canada. A very handsome soldier. We went to a movie and, back home, found ourselves alone. My mother had gone to bingo and my father was working nights at the steel plant. It was a cold, rainy night and we huddled over the coal heater after coming inside.
I found myself folded in Albert's arms. The kiss followed. We had kissed before, but this was different...sweet, warm, tender and long. Delicious thrilling shock waves raced through my veins and my knees had an unfamiliar pleasant weakness.
Along with desire came panic to a naïve teenage girl. I fled to the safety of the kitchen and shakily poured glasses of milk and made up a plate of butter tarts. After Albert was sent overseas, our letters sometimes referred to "the evening of the butter tarts" and we both remembered that very special kiss.
Albert was killed in France on June 11, 1944. Our future together was not meant to be. Later, I lost all his treasured letters and photos in a house fire. Even today, as an 81-year-old great-grandmother, I still have fond memories of that very special kiss one rainy night back in 1942.
Lois Field Morrow, Huntsville
For spring break in 1979, I went with four university girlfriends from Illinois to Florida, where we rented a two-room efficiency. One night, we went to the biggest disco club in Clearwater. By the end of the night, I found myself with only one friend, the other three were nowhere in sight. The two nice Canadian guys we'd been dancing with drove us back to our efficiency. As the guys were leaving, the one who'd been my dancing partner kissed me goodbye. It was a long, long kiss. It was a lingering kiss that felt different, magical, like a life-changing moment. Do people fall in love with one kiss? I would say yes.
He was back the next day, his last in Florida. We exchanged addresses. I told him I would be graduating soon and had a job waiting for me. He said he would visit.
I graduated that May. After a congratulatory dinner with friends and family, I insisted on leaving for my new apartment. My parents were baffled by my rush.
The next day, I waited. Finally, around 5 p.m., my Canadian knocked on the door. At first, it was awkward. He had driven the entire 14 hours from Kincardine, Ont., to Springfield, Ill. He was tired. I was nervous. But it was okay, after that kiss. Our kiss. It was the same long, lingering kiss that still felt exciting and life-changing.
We married in June, 1981. I left my family and friends to live in Canada with him and we had two children. Last year, we took our 17-year-old son with us to Florida. We went back to where the efficiency had been. It's a condo now, but we were sure it was the same spot. Our son just rolled his eyes at us and went back to the car. We stood there and kissed.
Gail Clark, Enniskillen
An old boyfriend and I had decided to go out for dinner. He was the first breakup that had left a huge hole in my heart and I was hoping this dinner would lead to "us" again. We had a great evening and, at the end of it, he gently took my face between his hands and gave me a kiss — on the forehead. I knew then there wasn't a chance.
Anonymous
Almost 15 years ago, my father was lying in a hospital bed, paralyzed by a stroke and unable to talk. My father, an Englishman's Englishman educated at Cambridge, lived to love my mother. It was almost Christmas and he always got her something special, so I did it for him. I found an elegant pair of earrings and got a card and a stamp pad. At the hospital I stamped the card with his fingerprint, signing it, "With love."
I bent close to his face and asked my father if it was good enough. His eyes watered and his lips touched my cheek and I heard a gurgled, "I love you." I kissed him back and, in that kiss, I felt all the love for my father, my friend. It was the most incredible moment of my life with my father. He died a few weeks later, but I knew I had connected with him on a very deep and personal level and I shall always cherish that kiss.
Peter Stanton, Newmarket
While working long hours at my summer job, I became good friends with a co-worker. After closing shifts, we'd go for coffee at a nearby Tim Hortons and sit, talk and laugh for hours. I realized I'd developed deep feelings for him.
After Tim Hortons closed one night, we went to my car to talk some more. The radio was turned on and the song "Truly, Madly, Deeply" by Savage Garden played. He walked over to the driver's side, opened the door and asked me to dance. He turned up the volume and, at 2:30 a.m. in an empty parking lot with a light drizzle of rain, we danced. As I put my head against his chest, I felt so comfortable. After the song ended, we still held each other in silence, rain falling, cars passing and just us. Then he kissed me. Sweet. Passionate. Absolutely amazing.
Ever since that night last August, we've been together and couldn't be happier. When "Truly, Madly, Deeply" comes on the radio, we smile at each other and remember that night dancing in the middle of an empty parking lot.
Marie Azzopardi, Toronto
I spent a week in the French West Indies visiting a friend. She introduced me to a Frenchman who spent quite a bit of his time taking me around to the local sites. He was very polite and reserved.
At the end of the week, my friend, along with the Frenchman and two of his buddies, brought me to the airport. While saying all my goodbyes, I went up to my French "guide" and gave him the customary pecks on the cheeks — and then I planted a big one on his surprised lips. As I walked away smiling, he stood there looking stunned with his friends laughing.
I boarded the plane and the rest is history. We were married a year later.
Christine Trillard, Oakwood
Our love was a forbidden one.
She was Jewish. I was Indian. Her parents wanted her to be with a Jewish guy. My parents wanted a nice Indian girl for me.
But we knew each other and, one day, our eyes met across a crowded mall. She sat with her friends and I sat with mine. I could not keep my eyes off her. I was captivated by her beauty. She somehow later got my number from a friend and we met. That is when the magic began.
Our first kiss, or maybe it wasn't our first....Maybe we were together in another life, for that is how it felt.
Her hair draped around us, making the rest of the world disappear. Nothing else was present, just her beautiful eyes looking deep into mine. Then our lips touched. They tasted like the most exotic fruit. It was not a fierce kiss, but deep and enduring, the way one would sip the most magnificent wine. Time froze until we came up for air.
To this day, even though we are not together, we are as close as two people can be.
Anonymous
It was 35 years ago and I was in love. He sat in front of me in Grade 9 math. I couldn't tell you how long it took him to notice me. It didn't matter. All I knew was that I was near him and I got to see him every day.
He was extremely tall, I was very short. He was irreverent, I followed all the rules. He was so smart, he never needed to open a book, my marks were...well, you know. He was too funny and I laughed at every word that came out of his mouth.
About five years ago at an annual function, it just came out of my mouth, the reunion classic, "You know I was in love with you in high school." He took a deep breath and gently replied, "Yeah. I got that."
Then, as if a force took hold of both of us, we leaned into one another, at the same slow motion speed. His eyes were wide open and he was looking into mine, like I had never let anyone look before. Until the exact moment, I still didn't know if we were going to kiss. I was just being pulled in by those eyes. Our lips met, holding onto each other in the gentlest of ways. Forty people disappeared and The Stones went silent. It ended as quickly as it began. No one seemed to notice that the world had just changed.
They say that lightning never strikes twice. For me, it strikes yearly.
Anonymous
It happened last summer after my 6-year-old son's soccer game. He reached down on the grass and plucked out a dandelion flower. He said, "Mommy, close your eyes and bend down." I did as was requested and he looked into my eyes.
"Mommy," he said, "I think I'm falling in love with you." He gave me the flower and then he kissed me.
That is and will always be my most memorable kiss.
Maria Battiston, Maple