No More Tongue Twister

Oh no, you say. Another brutal tell-all. Yes, it truly does give me great pleasure that I have been granted a literary platform to unravel the dirty, cringe-worthy thoughts that we are all secretly having. So, shall I begin?

Have you ever come face to face, or should I say, mouth to mouth, with an individual who has washing machine syndrome? If you have never heard of this concept before, take a moment to really process the meaning of this kissing tactic. When you lock lips with a mouth washer, they operate in accordance with their three-step philosophy: soak, rinse, and repeat. Ew, you say? Yeah, uh-huh, that is exactly how I feel. It disturbs me to admit, but my mouth has been a victim numerous times to the modern-day Edward Scissor-Tongues of our generation. I too have choked on wet, overly zealous tongues that were seemingly trying to intertwine themselves with either my tonsils or my uvula — maybe both, honestly, who knows.

The reason I am bringing this issue to light, is because nobody else is. Everyone is eager to complain about a nasty, late-night rendezvous they had, but absolutely nobody is trying to solve the problem! Instead of discussing our sexual preferences with our partners, we would rather allow them to become the perpetrator of something that might make us uncomfortable—aka demolishing our faces with a self-serve tsunami.

The next time you engage in sexual contact with another human being, be honest with them. Rather than forcing yourself to swallow gallons of your partner’s spit and totally losing the ability to breathe in oxygen, try actively communicating with your partner about what you are comfortable or uncomfortable with. Nobody wants to be seen as the sloppy, inexperienced middle-schooler who tries to make their tongue longer than the Fruit Roll-Up they ate during recess.

Although it truly does take an impressive amount of effort and undeniable talent to entirely lick off someone’s face, it should never happen. Nobody wants to have slobber dripping from their chin, or their nose – oh, don’t you even get me started on that kissing catastrophe, I do NOT want to talk about it. Let’s just say, until that night, I never imagined I would ever use up a brand-new Kleenex box in one sitting.

However, to all you individuals who think kissing is an opportunity to slither your tongue down another person’s esophagus, let me stop you right there. If you choose to kiss that way because you honestly enjoy it, be absolutely sure that your partner has given you consent to do so. There is nothing more terrifying than an unexpected oral organ bulldozing down your pristine, enameled walls and setting up camp in your pie hole.  I wish you all the best of luck on your next match of tongue judo. As for me, I am no longer accepting applications for any alphabet spelling contestants – that just leaves me the wrong kind of wet.