A kiss is a kiss is a kiss is a kiss

On screen and paper, sex looks like pure magic. A kiss is a shiny end to an epic story, rather than a sloppy and banal attempt to be liked. Intimacy is wrapped in a clean sheet of pure white paper and tied with a pink silk bow, rather than unflattering desperation.

After encountering daily these exaggerated images glorifying sex! sex! sex! those of us that live in reality remain hopelessly prudish and awkward about all of it. We often touch another person as though there is a trite contract to do so, not just because we want to. We do it after long and careful contemplation, calculating the chances of rejection and weighing the costs and benefits. We rely on labels to create the appropriate context to do so (“you are my girlfriend, therefore I will kiss you”). We treat sex in reality as something to “get”. We consider it as a possession, in the way we consider a car a possession, rather than an act it really is. We want it in order to ease our boredom and loneliness or sometimes even just to claim that we have it (that we are not complete losers).

And I don’t think we do this because we are assholes incapable of real affection or anything like that. I think this problematic attitude towards sex emerges from years of disappointment and despair. We are tired of trying, enough to decide: “Awesome sex like that is what happens in movies and books. The perfectly smooth skin and the perfect kiss, they are not for us because [insert reason here e.g. the reality sucks, etc.]. As inhabitants of reality, we have to settle for unfortunate sexual encounters and uncomfortable attempts to be free of loneliness. Sex is supposed to be awkward and weird and not that great.”

But I don’t think that’s true. I think we aren’t giving real sex enough credit. We are trapped in our own paradox about sexuality.

Sex is fun and exciting, and it teaches us a lot about someone on a whole another level (even their deeply buried inhibitions and insecurities and needs and madness), but it isn’t going to save any of us. A kiss is a kiss is a kiss is a kiss. There is really nothing to it, except nice feelings and a big chance to learn about the person you are kissing (more on that later). But instead of recognizing this and reaping as much benefit from it as we can, we sometimes get caught in our romanticized version of things. We expect our intimate encounters to be fantastic, and either accompanied by witty and cute banter or ardent declarations. We expect to meet the one serendipitously and all our problems to disappear in a pink poof! We expect too much. So when we finally kiss someone in real life after all that build up, we are too busy being disappointed by (“What, no background music? No fade to black? What’s all this awkwardness about?”) and fretting over (“What if my friends judge me? Is this person attractive enough for me to kiss? Is this going to become a relationship?”) it all to truly see what a kiss is capable of.

And after that disappointment, and another disappointment, and then another – after enough of them – we despair of kisses and sex in reality altogether. We just discredit it as a “reality” (with the assumption that reality sucks) and make a joke out of it. We give up. While secretly dreaming about that perfect someone, we say to ourselves: “That perfect someone is a myth”. This, I think, is the paradox we often live with. We romanticize a kiss and then simultaneously grow skeptical of it.

But I don’t think for a second that a kiss is meaningless. Of course, it’s not a big deal at all – but it is not a complete joke either, even in reality. Any human interaction is meaningful, and when it comes to something as intimate and open (and naked, both physically and figuratively) as sex, it is extremely meaningful (if we give it a chance).

I earnestly believe that a kiss can change a person’s whole world. But not because I think the kiss itself has a magical power. Kissing is a part of one’s encounter with another person, and our encounters with people can and often do change our world (to whatever degree). A kiss is a powerful communication tool. A kiss is just a kiss, unless you use it to express something inexpressible otherwise. Sex is a method through which we can further understand and empathize with a practical stranger. It can teach us about others and simultaneously ourselves. It can be magical (like in novels) because it connects two people, and I think that connection is magic in its own right.

I think sex can be just as much of a song in reality as it is on our TV screens, if we treat it like a looking glass: A means to look more closely at someone. Sex should be about genuine interest and curiosity in someone, not save me save me save me and validate me and love me and make me whole. It should be about the person we are kissing, not me me me. It should be about understanding (and therefore loving) them better, or it remains a purely masturbatory act only concerned with oneself. If it’s just going to be about yourself, why go through all that trouble to pick someone up? Just sit at home with porn – it’ll be way easier.

Sex in reality is supposed to be fun, like an adventure or a quest or a puzzle or a trivia or an experiment. The perfectly smooth skin and the perfect kiss are hilarious overrated, because it’s never about perfection – it’s about looking at someone straight in the eyes and loving them, in spite of the ugliest and the dirtiest corners of their being. As inhabitants of reality, we have a chance to kiss (communicate with) other inhabitants of reality with their own thoughts, a distinct worldview, and a unique history – rather than scripted characters – and we should rejoice in this fact, not despair of it.