How To Kiss Your Husband

I’ve been trying to kiss my husband for weeks now.

I read an article on MSN a while back about a kissing experiment, and here’s the basic idea: you make-out with your spouse everyday for seven days straight. Exhausting? Yes. Worth it? Hope so! The results of one chick’s experiment seemed like something I’d be interested in–husband starts doing laundry, cooking food, massaging her feet, etc., etc., etc. And although my husband pretty much does all that and more on a regular basis, I thought, “What the heck. I’ll give it a try.” Plus, we could stand to make-out more, since a good 95% of our most passionate kisses occured in 2002.

First things first: I had to start remembering to brush my teeth on a regular basis. I also purchased some tasty mouthwash–you know, the brown kind that smacks of acid and burns holes straight through your gums.

Then I had to do something about my sandpaper lips: I had spent way too much money on Listerine I couldn’t bring myself to use more than once, so I checked out some bullhonkey home-remedies website and found about a million make-your-own exfoliating lipbalm recipes. I settled for one that involved lemon juice and brown sugar (the only ingredients I had on hand) and started scrubbing.

Problem: Lemon juice on cracked lips really. Really. hurts.

But I persevered.

And soon, I was ready for Operation Kiss My Own Freaking Husband For No Good Reason.

  • Day One–Moving in for the Kill. 09:00 hours. Teeth brushed? Check. Lips soft? Check. Make-up applied? Hair combed and straightened? Check, check. Legs shaved, cleavage showing, high-heels on? Not so much. But getting your mack on is all about confidence, and I had plenty of it. I slid my hands onto Caleb’s shoulders and went to pull him in close for a smooch.

Him: “What are you doing? Get off me.”

Me: “I just want to kiss you.”

Him: “Why? What did I do to you?”

Me: “Nothing…husbands should just want to kiss their wives, okay? …And, no, nevermind–I wasn’t going to say anything–but, fine! Since you asked–I just wanted to try this experiment where I kiss you everyday for seven days.”

Him: “Seven days? What is that supposed to do?”

Me: “Oh, you know, incite romance and whatnot.”

Him: “You mean, incite rioting. Seriously, it’s not like we’re teenagers or even newly-weds.”

Me: “Fine. I hate you. I’ll never kiss you again.”

Caleb: “My evil plan worked!”


  • Day 2, Attempt 2: Teeth brushed. Lips soft. Hair combed. Awesome 1970s-flannel-shirt action going on–I smiled sweetly and alluringly at him from across the kitchen.

Him: “What? You’re not going to try and kiss me again today are you?”

Me: “I thought about it.”

Him: “Ugh. Come here then.” I receive a peck on my super-soft lips for my efforts. Hottest peck of my life.

  • Day 3: Basking in the Glow: I started with the smiling. Caleb says: “I kissed you yesterday.” And since I was worn out from looking so pretty, I let our kiss-of-the-day go.
  • Day 4: Nothing.
  • Day 5: I am sly. Here’s me: “Hey, come here. I’ve been trying something awesome with my lips. Come see how soft and kissable they are.” Him: “I am not putting my fingers on your lips.” Me: “No, stupid, kiss them with your lips.” Him: “Didn’t I just do that?” Me: “Shut up and give me a kiss. I am your wife. You have to kiss your wife.” I got another peck. It…was awesome.
  • Day 6, 7, 8, and 9: Nothing. I was tired of rejection.
  • Day 10: I spent a good bit of the afternoon in a funk, obsessing over what Caleb and I could possibly do for an early Valentine’s Day celebration with limited fundage. “Humph.” I thought. “Kissing is free and he won’t even do that.”
  • Day 11: Fun with Money and Budgets. Shockingly, we did not kiss on this day either.
  • Day 12: Parents’ Night Out. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t tempted to treat me, myself, and I to a pedicure sans Caleb after dropping the kids off with the good volunteers at our church between the hours of 6 and 8. But since we hardly get any time alone, together, EVER, I figured I could let him tag along with me to the bookstore for a quiet, coffee-drinking, book-reading, boring, I-can’t-believe-this-is-what-we-do-for-fun kind of date. And we? Actually had a very good time. We came home feeling very refreshed–we put the kids to bed, turned down the lights, and, (oh, yeah, you know what’s coming) watched Ong Bak 2 in Thai and made up our own subtitles until we were too tired to think anymore. It was, afterall, past 9:30.
  • Day13: My Husband Is the Shiznit. On this lovely day I got it into my head that we–the whole family–should all smoosh into our teensy car and drive up to the city where the mother of all craft fairs was taking place.

This type of event is not neccessarily something husbands live and breathe to attend, and Caleb was bored from the moment I said “Hey wanna do something fun today?” The place was a madhouse–7 buildings chock full of grandmas and shopping-crazed women, all pushing and shoving and slinging their giant purses around, oohing and aahing over little wooden plaques that state “I only have a kitchen because it came with the house!” Did I turn into one of them the instant I entered the doors of the first building? Yes I did.

The kids were immediately ready to leave, but Caleb–my dear, sweet, Caleb–did his very best to hold onto Merrick  while he made his way through the crowds, following me and Cheyenne as we dashed excitedly from booth to booth. Finally, after an hour or so of that crap, he looked pleadingly into my eyes and said, “Can I please just take the little kids outside and meet you later?”

Cheyenne and I browsed for 2 more hours, during which time I have no idea what Caleb was doing with the kids. I know cotton candy was involved, and I’m thinking some little boy got to run around in an empty parking lot, but I. Was. In Heaven–and that Heaven was made sweeter just by knowing what my husband was willingly putting up with for my happiness.

He cooked dinner that night–and that grilled chicken was so good, it stood up on my plate, looked at me, and screamed “Your husband loves you like a mamma jamma!” So I kissed the back of his neck that evening, right before I whispered “You are the best husband ever in the whole world” in his ear. “Ew! That tickles!” he said with a wink and a smile.

  • Day 14: Sunday morning. 30 minutes before we had to leave for church. Teeth brushed? NOT. Lips exfoliated? Hiiiiiiiiiill no. Hair combed, slammin’ outfit on, shoulders back, confidence confidence confidence…no, no, and no no no. I was stuck in the bathroom mirror, frowing at my face and wondering if I should even comb my ragamuffin hair before I threw it into a ponytail and called it a day. I contemplated wearing mom-jeans and a big chunky sweater and I died a little inside. The kids were going ape in the living room, I was 18 hours away from even thinking about being ready to leave, and that’s when it happened: Caleb–beautiful, shining (dressed and ready) Caleb–man-walked into the bathroom, pulled me close, gently cradled my head in his hands, and gave me the single most wonderful kiss I have ever had in my life.

It was the kind of kiss that brings tears to the eyes…only for me, I went weak in the knees and got the giggles like a friggin’ school girl. “What are you doing?” I laughed. “Just kissing my wife,” he smiled. And then my amazing husband went about his usual routine–fed the dogs, changed diapers, picked up toys, and just generally went on with his bad self.

And I? Put on my mom-jeans and a big chunky sweater, threw my ratty hair in a ponytail, and walked on out of our bathroom with confidence.

And super soft lips.

Happy Valentine’s Day you guys.

About Toni

Mom. Wife. Artist. I take care of the kids and pretend to clean sometimes. I can cook spagetti and I have never been arrested. View all posts by Toni

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