Don’t Dismiss (or Diss) the Kiss

La beauté n’a pas d’importance. Quand on est un homme aimable, on finit par avoir une beauté dans le regard, dans la manière d’être en vieillissant.¹

— Charles Aznavour

The lyrics, in both French and English, are here Qui Who

Il faut savoir, coûte que coûte, Garder toute sa dignité Et, malgré ce qu’il nous en coûte, S’en aller sans se retourner Face au destin qui nous désarme.²

— Charles  Aznavour

Helluva preamble to my post, eh?  Lemme explain myself before I continue.  Yesterday, the world lost the fabulous French/Armenian singer, Charles Aznavour – also known as the “Frank Sinatra of France”.  You can’t really feel bad.  The man was 94 and had a most prolific life.  If you click on his name, you have access to a wonderful article on his life as well as a link to his most famous English song “She”.

But I digress…

Because of his passing, I ended up on YouTube to listen to my favourite tunes by him, such as “La Bohème” and “Emmenez-moi” (the latter being, by the way, IMPOSSIBLE to sing along to in a Karaoke session.  Trust me.  I’ve tried) and left YouTube to do its thing and play whatever it felt like… well.

Along came Cesária Évora and her sultry voice singing “Besame Mucho”.  My Spanish is so-so but passable enough to know that Besame had to do with kissing.  So, of course, the Google came into use when I searched the English translation of the song for confirmation.  While I continue blathering on, g’head, enjoy the late great Cesaria…

 

I started thinking about kissing.  And how much I love it.  And miss it.  I think we don’t spend nearly enough time kissing, to tell the truth. I’m not talking about those pecks on the cheeks or those chaste, dry, barely-there touches of lips, unless those are just to lead up to the real thing.  I’m talking about those deep, long, slow kisses that turn your insides to liquid mercury.  I’m talking From Here to Eternity beach kiss scene…

Those mornings when we kiss and surrender for an hour before we say a single word.”
David Levithan

When you first start dating, you spend so much time just kissing:  while taking a walk, while doing dishes, while sitting on the couch.  It doesn’t matter where but you sneak them in  wherever and whenever you can.  You can’t seem to get enough.  And it’s not automatically a foreplay of foreplay, either.  Not saying that it can’t be, mind you… You kiss just to feel connected to your partner.  You’re getting to know them on an intimate level.  The dance appeals, you keep on dancing.

“If we’re going to kiss, it has to be book-worthy.”
Colleen Hoover

Now, what I write here is my own personal experience and I am totally generalising but somehow, I am sure many can relate.

After a while, your relationship falls into that long term category.  Kissing is still very enjoyable but the spontenaity has decreased.  As has duration of most kisses.  They are not so deep and long.  You may still find yourselves kissing for kissing’s sake but let’s face it, it is now more of a foreplay to foreplay.

“A kiss is a lovely trick designed by nature to stop speech when words become superfluous.”
Ingrid Bergman

Years pass and you are happily coupled – married or not, same diff, to me…  Kissing somehow has taken a backseat.  No matter how much love is between you, those long, slow, deep kisses are now reserved for the bedroom as foreplay.  Or maybe they start in the living room or kitchen (if you’re lucky) but they’re still an invitation to make your way to your love nest.  And they don’t last that long anymore.  Mind you, my circumstances made that I didn’t get a chance to find out what happens when the children leave the family home… Does your kissing game go up a notch?  Do you do like those silly movies and transform your son’s bedroom into a “play room”?  I sure like to think so.  I like to imagine that you rediscover that freedom you had when you first met.

I’m not saying some couples don’t kiss and kiss often.  But do they last more than a few seconds?  Rarely.  But hey, they are still good.  Kudos to the couples who have kept up their kissing game.

“Now a soft kiss – Aye, by that kiss, I vow an endless bliss.”
John Keats

One last thing.  Another reason I decided to write this post it this:  I never thought to find myself back “on the market”, so to speak at my age.  Thanks, Mick.  Dammit.

That said.  I will TOTALLY judge you on your kiss.  If you don’t try to kiss me on our first date, that might be okay, depending on how the date went…. then again, it will show me you are not that into me.  Cool.  We move on.

If you do kiss me?  I will decide then and there if we move on to the next stage.

 

——————

¹ Beauty has no importance.  When we are a lovable man, we end up with a beauty in our gaze, in our way of being while growing older.

² One must know, no matter the cost, how to keep one’s dignity.  And, despite the personal cost, to move forward, without looking back and face the destiny that disarms us.

Weekend Writing Prompt #72 – Shell

Could not resist this one.  Shout out to Sammi Cox for hosting this weekly challenge.

A word prompt to get your creativity flowing this weekend.  How you use the prompt is up to you.  Write a piece of flash fiction, a poem, a chapter for your novel…anything you like.  Or take the challenge below – there are no prizes – it’s not a competition but rather a fun writing exercise.  If you want to share what you come up with, please leave a link to it in the comments.

Word Prompt

Shell

Challenge

My shell protects me

And

My heart

Love,

Can crack it open

Love Song – Friday Fictioneers

Good Wednesday afternoon, ladies and gents!  The sun is shining beautifully here on the south shore of Montreal.  Tomorrow it is supposed to rain cats and dogs and then we are expecting a week-long heatwave starting Friday…  I’ll try to enjoy today as much as I can before work!  That said, before I go back out there and attack the weeds, I share with you this little 100-word story based on our hostess with the mostest’s own picture of her Luv’s music room.  Thank you, always, Rochelle, for not only being here week after week, encouraging us to write and up our game, but for always supplying your own fabulous take on the prompt.

As always, do join in by clicking on the blue frog below.  It’s a great challenge that teaches you how to choose your words carefully.  100 ain’t a whole lot to write a story!

©Rochelle Wisoff-Fields – Jan’s Joint

Put your click to the link here

Love Song

“…. and this is my music room.”

“You play all these instruments?”

“Yep!  Wanna hear some?”

“Yes, please.  I’d love to.  What is your genre?”

“You tell me after you’ve heard me play.  How about that?”

She nodded yes, thrilled that he was going to play just for her.

He picked up his guitar and she marvelled as his fingers caressed the instrument.

The melody was beautiful, his voice a rich baritone.

“So? What say you?”

“I’d say a country-influenced crooner is what you are.  You must have loved her very much.”

A shadow crossed his face.  “With all my heart.”

Last Chance – Friday Fictioneers

Good Wednesday morning, my readers.  Hope you’re enjoying Hump Day!  This week our lovely leader, Rochelle, chose Roger Bultot’s lovely picture.  His photo can only used for this prompt.

Should you wish to participate, and why don’t you?  Just click on the blue frog and add your link.  It’s easy, using Roger’s beautiful picture, come up with a 100-word story, not including the title, and not one more word, and add your link.  Ta-dah!  Easy-peasy.

 

Get the link for your blog

Last Chance

“Please, everyone, we need you all to take your seats before their Royal Highnesses arrive.  No lingering about.”

From their hidden alcove, Lianne and Anthony watched as the guests left the lobby and headed for the hall.

“We really must hurry, Tony.  They are expecting us!”

“Who cares?  We are the Prince and Princess-to-be.  They have no choice but to wait.”

“Yes, but, Sweetheart, we really sh—”

Anthony kissed her, silencing her protests.  He pulled her down to the chaise lounge, and lay beside her.

“Let ’em wait.  This is our last chance to be alone before we’re constantly guarded.”

 

Tell Me a Story, Mémère – Friday Fictioneers

Good Wednesday-Friday Fictioneers Day, my Peeps!  This lovely photo by Fatima Fakir Deria brought to mind my beloved late grandmother, Noëlla, who also happened to be my godmother.  She was definitely my hero and how she managed to do what she did always amazed me.  So many stories told, and quite matter-of-factly.  She just did what she had to do.  I am very proud to say I inherited that from her.

How about you join in this week in telling a 100-word story based on this photo?  Rochelle will be more than happy to accept any newcomer!  She’s welcoming like that.  Click on the blue frog and add your link!

Click here to get the link for your blog

Tell Me a Story, Mémère

It was a perfect day to accompany her grandmother outside  for a stroll.

“How about we sit here in the shade, Mémère?”

“Looks like the perfect spot, Suzie.”

“Please, tell me some of your stories of how you managed to survive with six kids, living in the woods, with barely nothing.”

“Aren’t you tired of hearing them?”

“Not even close.  I want to record you so I can write them into a book.  Would you like that?”

“Silly girl, I’m just ordinary.”

“Au contraire, Mémère.  You are my hero.  You were way ahead of your time.”

“Hmmm… Where to start….”

***

Sadly, I never got around to recording her stories.  She died in 2009, at age 92, three months’ shy of her 93rd birthday

Idyll – What Pegman Saw

Good evening (or morning, depending on where on the globe you be) my Readers.   Pegman leaders Karen and Josh were busy basking in the sun last week and left us to our own devices for a week but are now back with a new challenge.  Thank you both for your efforts.

This week Pegman takes us to Yellowstone National Park in the US. You’ll find both streetview and photo spheres to inspire you. Choose any place within Yellowstone and write 150 words inspired by it. Once your piece is polished, you can share it with others at the link up below:

Idyll

Giselle felt the warmth of the sun through the roof of the tent.  She smiled dreamily as she reminisced on the previous night’s passions.

“You’re so beautiful when you smile like that, Gi.”

“You know, Dany, you saved me and gave me back my smile.”

“And I’ll make sure you never lose it again.  Wasn’t last night’s concert great?  The drum of the falls, the pop and fizz of the geysers…”

“Oh you!  Everything turns to music with you.”

“True dat!   I am a musician, after all.  Check this out…”  He slid the zipper of the tent.  Tzzzzzzzzip.

They laughed and together opened the tent flap, quickly falling silent as they saw the deer grazing right in front of them.

“Could this trip get any better?” whispered Giselle.

“It sure can.”  He nuzzled her neck, pulling her back inside.  “How about we take up where we left off last night?”

A Café of One’s Own – What Pegman Saw

I haven’t done a “Pegman” in a couple of weeks, and frankly, should be cooking as I am having my Tuscan feast for my sisters and their hubbies tonight but I “just took a peak at what the destination was”.  And then looked around to see if anything caught my eye and well, something obviously did because here I am!

This week Pegman is back in Europe, visiting the Czech Republic for the first time. You’re invited to stroll the city of Karlovy Vary and choose your own view. Take your inspiration and write no more 150 words. Once your poem, story, or essay is polished, share it with others at the link up below:

A Café of One’s Own

Monique looked around the room with satisfaction.  Her first visit to this place had charmed her, but never did she think she would one day own it!

Funny how life works.  She always thought she would one day end up in Italy, working in a café in Venice, yet somehow ended up in Karlovy Vary, Czech Republic.  Love can do that to a person.  You meet someone, fall in love, he brings you to his hometown, and next thing you know, you are no longer just a tourist.  Life could not be any better.  Over the years, the streets along the canal have become your streets, the people, your people.   You have now mastered the language you never thought you could and you feel like you belong.

Then he tells you that he no longer loves you.

Monique admired her new café and smiled.  Life could not be any better.