November 2003 Issue - Essay # 8
Kissed
by Someone Else
By Marvi Gil
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Sometimes
I wonder how it feels like to be kissed by someone else. A fleeting
erotic brush with someone you've not pledged undying love to. How
is it going to be, I wonder? Maybe it should be after evening goodbyes,
just as the night is ending and you can both dismiss it as part of
drunkenness. That
way you can say the next time you meet, "The alcohol got into my
head." Or
you can credit it to raging hormones, the moon cycles, or the blatantly
musky perfume he wore. But why find an excuse for two adults sharing a
pleasurable biological moment? I
remember old maid grand aunts who died one after the other, one cold
December. I'd always wondered if they ever "made it" with any
of the muscled island boys who went spear fishing before dawn and tilled
earth by break of day. Did
Lola Blasa ever hide in the shadows of banana trees for a quick stolen
kiss on the way home from the farm? Or, did Tiya Ling ever sneak out at
midnight to exchange perfumed touches with high school classmates? How
I wish they did and felt the fire of passion stir in their loins. It
is unbearable to imagine them leading ascetic lives confined to hearth
and earth. There must be more to farm living than cooking, baking,
washing, and waiting for tired brothers and fathers to come home. For
sure, these questions do not even enter the minds of single women today.
Questions change in these times when high school girls consider it a
disgrace to graduate without the memory of their first kiss. Ahhh
... the first kiss. Where did you have yours? Did he bend your will to
his in the backseat of his parents car? Or did you wait for that special
moment, the requisite sunset, glass of wine and you dressed in a sheath
with just a flimsy wrap around your shoulders? I hope you let your hair
fly free, let his fingers run through the strands. If
you've not had your first kiss yet, just wait and allow yourself the
choice of time and place. This memory is for rocking chair moments, when
arthritis has gripped your knees and forced you to live on warm tea and
solitude. Other than that though, I still wish for the pleasure of stolen kisses. Especially when it rains, just when you are about to say goodbye, and most of all ... with someone you don't share anything with other than a cold night. That way, goodbyes are sweet and final. |
| Author's Biography Marvi currently works for an English language daily in the Philippine island of Cebu. She's a med school drop-out who decided that the writing bug just cannot be cured and must instead be nourished. E-mail
Marvi at raintribe@yahoo.com |
Essay
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