Part Nine: Making the Move

When 'Ladies First' Is Optional

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There comes a time in a man's life when he wants nothing more in the world than to lean over to the person across from him, look into her (or his) eyes and stick his tongue into her mouth.

But life, as we all know, is not that simple.

It takes courage--real, liquid or some other type--to make that kind of move. And with good reason. Sticking your tongue into another person's mouth is not only a very weird thing to do--go on, think about it. I mean really think about the concept of putting your tongue into someone else's mouth. Does that make any kind of sense to you?--no, it's not only a weird thing to do, it's an extremely personal and intimate thing (unless you're both drunk at your third cousin's funeral). You are invading another person's space. You are intruding upon her body.

What if she doesn't like you like that? What if she doesn't want your tongue in her mouth? What if she pushes you away? What if she slaps you?

Or, worse, what if she stands there, very still, until you get the message and stop? Then she gives you a blank stare of appraisal. Any number of things could be going through her mind. What if your breath stinks? What if she actually hated you before but now would like you to spend the rest of eternity in hell, tossing Michael Jackson's salad? What if she sort of liked you before, but your kissing skills proved so inadequate that she...? Haha. I kid. Like that idea would even occur to a guy. But seriously, what if she sort of liked you but now questions your moral character after such a brazen attempt at licking the back of her teeth?

Of course, if you're a woman and feeling the urge to make a first move, you can multiply all of the above insecurities by one hundred because your mind has been thoroughly warped by mixed messages about a woman's proper behavior, women's rights, what men really think about women's rights and the guilt of whatever religion you belong to. For this particular puddle of neuroses, you can thank your mom, the media and Paris Hilton--in that order.

Ultimately, though, the answer to all of these What If questions is as simple as a shoe commercial. Just do it. Or, in this case, just try to do it. Why? Well, why not? Look at it this way. Making the first makeout move--whether it be a first or second date or just a drunken moment at a bar or party--serves as one of those clarifying moments. She likes you or she doesn't? If she does, great. If she doesn't, move on.

As I cobble this sloppy system of advice together, you may notice that the bedrock it's built on is this: Nine out of ten times, the person across from you has already made up her mind about you, has already determined that you've been written off, you will be soon, or you get her so tingly and moist she's going to put up with quite amount of foolishness on your part (in the beginning). So, unless you've just polished off a can of dog food or manage to rip out a filling or poke out an eye with your tongue, you've got little to worry about.

Except your dignity. And rejection. Yes. There's the rub. Easier said than done and all that. If we were all able to follow my kind of advice therapists would be out of work.

Basically, what I just said to you is: "Hey, get over your insecurities and fear of rejection."

And we all nodded as if that was just the easiest thing in the world to do. But we know it's not. That's why we have therapists and best friends and a gajillion dollar magazine industry giving both girls and boys all sorts of stupid and useless advice.

Want some practical advice? Go get yourself good and drunk.

Okay. Drunk yet? Great. Now let's try that again. Go get her, tiger.

Just do it.

See, now that wasn't so hard was it? Well, okay it was hard and man, I think that hand print is going to stick around for awhile.

Again, I kid.

Either she kissed you back or pushed you away and gave you a nasty look. Or worse pushed you away, called you sweet and said something about being friends.

Either he returned your smooches and said, "Wow, that was nice." Or, well, returned your smooches, maybe slipped his hands down your pants then gently pushed you away and said "My mamma warned me about wanton she sluts like you." Or he turned just at the last minute, caught you on the cheek and said, "You're just like a sister to me." Or worse, backed up, chucked you on the chin and said, "Man, you're just like one of the guys. Let's do a shot."

At least now you know. You've either got a smile on the inside and out or the hot flush or rejection reddening your face and neck.

But you know what? The little twinge of rejection will hurt a great deal less than if you don't do anything at all and delude yourself into thinking you're just waiting for the right moment, that you still have a shot with someone who's obviously opened up that little door behind you and placed you in--all together now--THE FRIEND ZONE!!!!!

So, drunk or sober, make the move.

As with most of my advice, I have a very hard time following it. Hell, since I've given up booze for lent, I've also resigned myself to the fact that I'm giving up on smooching and sex. Personally, I typically have to be good and drunk to make the first move. And, paradoxically, the MORE I like the person the drunker I have to be. If I think you're hot and fun and just want to shag and I've had a few? You might want to get out your stick, because you're gonna have to beat me off. (Wow, that sounds bad on all sorts of levels, don't it?) But if I like you-like you? Some twisted, overly idealistic part of my head is so busy building you up into an honorable woman or purity and virtue that I'll either have to be half a shot away from a good stomach pumping before I try anything. I only say these things to explain to you that I, too, am human and am not, in fact, some kind of Messiah of Macking (as if anyone had made the mistake of thinking that).

And as with most of my advice, this is completely gender neutral. Ladies, despite anything your mamma may have told you, a guy is not going to see you as a slut if you make the first move. (Hell, she's just projecting anyway. And you should tell your mamma there's a difference between making the first move and doing half the town she grew up in. That's not your fault and she shouldn't try to make you pay for her mistakes.) But seriously, we do get tired of being the one to have to go in for the kill, the one to worry about the rejection, of feeling like a predatory horndog if you do shoot us down in flames. It's bad enough that for all your bitching about equal rights, you still expect us to ask for the number first, call first, pay for the first date, and take a bullet for you if a mugger attacks us at the end of the night. That's fine. That's the way the world should be.

But really, help us out a little bit on this first kiss thing. Look, you don't even have to REALLY make the first move. If you want to be kissed--and come on baby, you know you want it--make your body language so obvious that Stevie Wonder could see it. Because, let's be honest, our heads have been all screwed up, too, by all you women selling us loads of bullshit about wanting a sensitive man who respects your boundaries and blahdeblahblahblah--when, in fact, you know damn well if you really dig the guy, you wouldn't mind if he ripped your bodice and got his hands all tangled up in your hair.

And if you don't want to be kissed? Just don't get too close. Don't hug. Don't even go for a cheek kiss. If you don't want a tongue up your nose, don't put your face anywhere near his.

That's simple, isn't it? I'm glad we understand one another. Coming soon; :Going All the Way," aka: "When 'Ladies First' is NOT Optional," aka: "Don't Worry About Giving the Milk Away for Free, He's Already Made up His Mind Regarding the Purchase of This Particular Cow."

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