How To Kiss Well

I soon realized, however, that my modest adolescent social status didn't leave me much room to be choosy. Plus, it turned out that even some awesome girls were terrible at kissing. I would have to teach them.

I took my instructional inspiration from my first girlfriend, Christine—my gold standard when it comes to kissing. Our first kiss had been, to a boy on a first date, a small miracle. I had been terribly nervous as we approached her front door. My hands had begun to sweat. (How could I touch her with sweaty hands?) I became aware of my gangly height. (Could I reach her without bending awkwardly?) I began to doubt that I should kiss her at all.

But she made it very simple. She took my wrists and clasped my hands behind her back, rose onto her toes, and pressed her bottom lip between mine, drawing my top lip between hers, just until I returned the gesture. Then it was over, punctuated with a little smack of suction as we parted. For several days after, the kiss ran through my mind. What stood out in my replay, even more than her malleable lips and that hint of her tongue, was my own feeling of pride. Despite my adolescent fumblings, I somehow felt that I had acted—there was no other word—smooth.

A great kisser makes you feel like a great kisser.

The lesson here, for any would-be kissing instructor, is that you have to teach without suggesting something is wrong. In fact, your unsuspecting students should feel as if they are teaching you.

To make this happen, you first have to understand what makes people kiss poorly. The most common mistake of bad kissers is excessive frenching, that is, the over-use of the tongue. They're not sure what else to do; they confuse passion with penetration. 

In response, at first, you have to french back. If you make bad kissers feel self-conscious, they'll never improve. So you indulge them, switching the direction of the tongue-swirl periodically to keep the semblance of spontaneity.