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I can see what looks like snow covering the upper flanks of Unaka Mt. this morning. The sight does nothing for my perpetually grumpy disposition.
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Where did I learn anything about kissing a woman’s hand, you ask? After all, you are but a mere hillbilly and probably married your mother or your sister or your first cousin, you say. Did I kiss the cow’s foreleg before I stump-broke her, you ask?
I’ll answer the last question first. ‘No’.
First cousins, mothers, and sisters desire to be kissed and pampered, too.
I learned what little I think I know from movies, mostly. Rudolf Valentino was very good at on-screen woman wooing, and many other leading men of pre-WW2 romantic films were pretty darned good at hand and arm kissing, although I think most of them were somewhat clumsy at lip smooching. Clark Gable was known as a pretty good lover of and for the ladies—off-screen and on-screen—and he did most of his hand kisses very well.
Anyway, I learned that keeping eye contact is the most important thing in hand kissing. If you are suave enough, and the lady is in a receptive mood, a lot of messages of intent and interest can be made with the eyes from the time your gazes meet through your picking up her hand and slightly leaning into it and on to the soft kiss and maybe a gentle stroke or two of her wrist before you release her. You are the charming snake and she is the your pretty little bird victim. Her eyes will tell you how well you did and your eyes can tell her you want to do a lot more.
Stuff like this comes natural to some men, but there is no way I could ever pull it off. Too bashful am I and I ain’t keen to being slapped. To say the actual flat truth, I have no real idea of what I am writing about when it comes to matters of intimate interpersonal male-female relationships. Truth! I’m just a hillbilly.
Have a lip-smacking Thursday!
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