Australia- the land of beautiful people.
I was lucky enough to spend a year among tan, buff and super sexy men who all had accents that gave me the chills. As a California girl, the infatuation was mutual and it didn’t take me long to land a date with — you guessed it — an Aussie lifeguard!
I couldn’t really tell if he was the funniest guy I’d ever met, or if his accent added a charm that just wasn’t there, but he definitely wined and dined me and by the end of the evening it was time for our first kiss.
With the warm, gentle breeze making my skirt dance ever so slightly and the smell of the ocean tickling my nose, we leaned in, opened our mouths and wamp, wamp waaaaaamp! Expecting a passionate, romantic Hollywood moment, I was left with my tongue hanging out of my mouth, literally.
Apparently, it isn’t customary to pash (Aussie for making out) with tongue! Well, without the French, what good does kissing do! I found myself trying to wipe the disappointment off my face, and was determined to get the kiss that had been building up in my imagination all night. It took a little coaxing, but eventually we were lip locked and he was lovin’ tongue action.
I thought that this was perhaps a one-time fluke, but when I moved on the next hunky bloke I was met with the same dilemma. Aussies don’t French and I’m sorry to say it leads to a not-so-hot make out sesh. Without the swapping of spit, American style, a kiss is just lips, annoying smacking and more lips.
Being the giving person that I am, I did my best to infiltrate these Aussie pashing practices by introducing the art of French kissing to as many blokes (and a few Sheilas) I could squeeze in before I departed the land down under.
Conclusion: kissing no fun without the tongue.
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