Hand Kissing

Last Spring, I was kissed on the hand by three different men - a family friend, a taxi driver, and the doorman at a tavern all within a week of each other.

I was surprised by these unsolicited kisses, and I wondered if hand kissing was back in style. Why had no-one warned me?

I mentioned these incidents to the Word Wizard, who seems to know something about every topic. He quickly responded with questions, "Did you offer your hand to be kissed? Did they touch their lips to your hand?"

No, I had not offered my hand to be kissed, and in all three instances I was tricked into receiving the kiss. And, yes, all three had touched their slobbery lips to the back of my hand.

I have since become a little wiser about hand-kissing, and so, gentlemen, if you want to kiss my tiny tender nymph hand

• I must be the one who initiates the gesture by offering you my hand palm down;
• I must know you;
• You must be of equal or higher mythological standing than I am;
• You must slip your fingers under the palm of my hand and gently rest your thumb on my knuckles;
  
• You may either quietly air kiss the back of my proffered hand, or kiss your thumb;
• You must kneel at my feet as you kiss my hand to show that you are in awe of my charms, and
• be forewarned that, according to W.J. Bethancourt III, should you offer an unsolicited kiss I am in my right to eviscerate you on the spot!

Taxi Driver Story II - The Soothsayer

Last Monday, after an amusing evening romp with a mere mortal, I was once again heading home in a taxi.

Unlike my other taxi driver, this fellow allowed me time to settle my dainty derrière into his crackly plastic covered back seat before driving off erratically.

He did not speak, but I was aware that he was staring at me fixedly in his rear-view mirror. “Oh, here we go again,” I thought, sighing lightly in an attempt to conjure up serenity.

Suddenly, he began speaking to me in a loud and passionate voice.

He explained that within a few seconds of seeing someone's face, he knows things about them. It is a gift. He does not see the future; he just sees things as they are.

And since, as you well know, it is a long drive to my home in the woods, I was his captive listener.

If I tried to thank him for what I perceived to be compliments, or to comment that he was correct about certain points, or to insist that certain things that he was relating to me were impossible, he would erupt and spurt, "You cannot argue these things with me. That is reality what I tell you!”

That is Reality

You are a kind person. That is Reality

You are a good person. That is Reality

You see life in black and white and know what you want. That is Reality

You have worked very hard all your life, and now you deserve to have fun. That is Reality

You have been a very good mother, and now it is your time to relax. That is Reality

You have taught your children to be the same kind of person that you are - kind, intelligent, and caring. That is Reality

You are involved with a man who loves to give you kisses everywhere. That is Reality

You are involved with a good and kind man. You will have a very happy, kind relationship. It will last forever. That is Reality

You will be married in 1-5 years. That is Reality

You will have 2 children - a boy and a girl. That is Reality

When you live with this man, every night he will want to be with you. He will cover you with kisses, and he will melt into you. That is Reality

To his suggestive comment about a man melting into me, I reacted, "Hey!"

"What?! That is natural what I tell you! It is on TV, it is on the Internet, it is in the movies - it is everywhere," he responded excitedly while waving both hands up I the air."

Has anyone else caught a ride with this soothsayer?

Taxi Driver Story I: My Don Juan

A few nights ago, after a date with a cute pixie, I hailed a taxi to go home.

“Hello pretty lady,” the young, swarthy taxi driver amiably says even before my itsy bitsy rear end is comfortably positioned on the seat.

Hmmm, he’s good, I think. He’s managed to cover up creepiness in his voice completely. So, what’s he up to? Is this just an innocent comment? Something he says to all the women who get into his cab?

He starts chatting. I learn that he is a full-time taxi driver and a part time student, and that he is 20 years younger than I am.

Then, somehow in the midst of talking about school and the courses he is taking, he turns on the overhead light, spins his head around to face me, flutters his long black eye-lashes at me and declares, “I prefer mature women!”

He turns back to facing the road, and turns off the light. I hear him chuckle.

“You prefer mature women? How mature?” I question.

He turns around again, the light goes on once more, and he presents me with a pout this time. “Your age.” he says softly.

I can’t help but feel that this young Don Juan pup has taken lessons from 4D in wooing women.

He returns to a safe driving position, the light is turned off again, and another chuckle is perceived.

“And why do you prefer older women?” I ask, determined to control the conversation.

“I like that they are experienced, that they do not have inhibitions, that they never have headaches, and that they take care of me…”

“So, are you married?” I ask, knowing fully well that he is. He wears a wedding band.

No chuckle this time. He is serious as he says, “I don’t know why, but I feel comfortable telling you this. I don’t usually tell women this (I don’t believe him), but my wife is cold. She is a good mother and a good wife, but she is cold. You understand what I mean, right?”

It’s a long ride and he continues, asking me directly at one point if I will consider being his lover. The overhead light is turned on many times, and many times he twists around and purrs, “Look at my lips… Don’t you want to know more about these lips? Don’t you want kisses from these lips?”

I am quick at deflecting, and getting him to talk more about his wife and children.

He starts laughing after a while, and resorts to chatting in a friendly manner. He stops pursuing me, and wants to know what kissing means to me. It is a serious question.

When we arrive at my place, he tries one last time, “Are you sure that you are not interested?”

“Yes, I am sure.” I repeat confidently.

“Listen,” I say, “think about this when you go home to your wife tonight. You claim that you like older women, correct? Well, that beautiful young wife of yours will one day be a mature woman. She will be the kind of woman you desire.”

He smiles at me. I suspect that I have made a point.

As I hand him the fare, he takes my hand and kisses it gently and says goodnight.

I am not offended. He has conceded defeat in a gentlemanly manner.

But, I am left to wonder about one part of the conversation… what does kissing really mean to most people?