Learning to French kiss

Joni Mitchell was right: in France, they kiss on main street. And on secondary streets, and in plazas, and on sidewalks. And always thrice.

But they’re not actual kisses.

It’s a cheek-to-cheek brush, first with the left, then the right, then back to the left, a kissing sound made at each turn by both parties to the act.

Beginning with the right cheeks appears to be acceptable, if the angle of the heads so dictate, but leading with the left is the decided norm.

This ritual is striking on two counts, both cultural.

First, evidently there is greater emphasis here than at home on more formally greeting each other. Whereas we might plunk ourselves down at a table-load of friends with a non-specific ‘hi’ and wave of the hand, here, each person is greeting individually.

The kiss then, is an elaborate-looking and certainly time-consuming protocol, and yet there’s something lovely and right about the time taken to fully acknowledge each other.

Secondly, use of the kiss is gender-neutral. Even among males, including teenage males and middle-aged trades guys, it seems to enjoy equal, if not greater, use than say, a hand-shake. With our cultural heritage (baggage?), it’s striking to see males display either a comfort with such intimacy, or the ability to be physically close without seeing it as an act of intimacy.

Unfortunately, the local culture is having a chilling effect on our 30-year marriage. In bed last night, I asked Marian if she wanted to French kiss. She promptly turned the other cheek.