A moment on the lips

2012-12-21 08:51

David Moseley

People can’t seem to help themselves or, for that matter, control themselves. As soon as December rolls around the normal rules of engagement no longer apply. See food, eat it. See drink, consume it. Say hello, lock lips inappropriately while drooling all over the face of someone you haven’t seen in 40 hamster months.

There are many things that rile me about the “festive season” (it’s Christmas dammit, yule have a good time even though nothing’s really different to the rest of the year, except now you have to spend money on people you barely know because Woolies told you too. Fuck you. I’m miserable all year round, retailers. Why should Christmas be any different).


But most offensive of all during this time of love and gaiety is the desire of the strays in your life, the lone strangers who only lock eyes on you once every 18 months, who insist on locking lips at times of greetings, gift exchanges or family get-togethers.

I now know what Osama Bin Laden must have felt like, quietly minding his own business in his evil lair, rubbing Dapper Dan pomade into his Fu Manchu, when next thing, kapow! Marines attack! No more Osama. That’s the stealth with which your lips will be assaulted between now and New Year’s Day. (At least Bin Laden’s lips never suffered the slobbering suctions of a distant family member’s cousin’s wife’s puckered lips. The joys of a precision military strike.)

But what you can you do? Short of head-butting your assailant, there’s really no exit strategy. You’re fate is inevitable. You can only grin and bear it, wiping excess moisture away immediately and demonstratively, in the hope that the message is received.

Even a well-placed cheek is no deterrent. With gobby smackers primed for the full-frontal assault, you can try turn the other cheek, but nothing stops a lip-smacker in full flight.

In attack mode they simply follow your head as you weaver from side-to-side, so while you take evasive action you end up looking like a vigilant road-crosser checking traffic both ways, and they a salivating St Bernard vigorously wagging their head at the thought of an extra-juicy bone, until they’ve smooched the squeamishness you lost about body fluids in Grade Five right back into you.

Find your happy place

I like kissing. But only when it’s my fiancée (wife in 17 days - crumbs) who’s involved in the equation.

I don’t mind a prudent peck on the cheek either. But when loose lips start quivering in my direction, my eyes close and my mind drifts off that happy place where the only moisture caressing my parched gums is an ice-cold draught as Dale Steyn tears in from the Wynberg End.

Festive bliss.

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Send your comments to David

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  • dawie002 - 2012-12-23 10:07

    What? No comments?

  • thabiso.letlhabane - 2012-12-23 14:17

    classic david

  • tim.gordon.5011516 - 2012-12-26 10:48

    I normally enjoy this column but I am uncomfortable with the Bin Laden comments.

  • barrie.eksteen - 2012-12-26 12:58

    Enjoy married life!

  • paul.moal.7 - 2013-01-05 00:27

    Same here. Not appropriate

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