Riding the Buss

"A kiss," that iconic song tells us, "is still a kiss. A sigh is just a sigh." Well, not exactly, as anyone who’s done more sighing than kissing knows. As in most married people. Actually, my wife and I do manage to sneak in kisses here and there, meaning we have a busy household and she's running kids around and I work late and there never seems to be any time except at breakfast while she's making pancakes and I'm emptying the dishwasher, so it’s a peck. Good morning. After we've brushed our teeth.

I’m not suggesting our love life has suffered because we’re forced to kiss while breakfast is erupting into flames on the stove behind us. Quite the opposite. It's just at this point in our lives we simply have come to realize that kissing is less important to the harmony of our relationship than, say, taking out the garbage. But when we do get a chance to truly lock lips on the rare occasion that we've found a moment, I have to say it’s a whole lot better than sorting through the recyclables.

No Thanks, We're Married
That's taking into account, again, that we're married. Anyone who has been married or dated for more than 15 minutes knows the downside of relationships. The quantity, and quality, of your smooching exist in inverse proportion to the number of years you've been together. Take a moment to recall, without embarrassing yourself, your wedding night. Or a memorable occasion with the love of your life. I’m guessing that every one of those kisses left you breathless with passion. These days you still become breathless but it’s because, let’s face it, you're middle-aged and out of shape.

That is to say, over the years kissing seems more and more like going to the dentist: it's a scheduled but necessary activity that involves a long wait followed by strange vibrations in your gums, and a rinse. Here, by the way, I am not using "kiss" as a euphemism for anything beyond a meeting of the lips--unless you want to infer and take it to its ultimate conclusion, which, of course, I did while I was thinking about it.

The Thais that bind
Kissing, then, is always done best and best done by the young and hearty. That’s why I wasn’t surprised when I read about Ekkachai and Laksana Tiranarat, a young couple from Thailand, who on this past Valentine's Day--of course--defeated 13 couples in a Guinness world record contest for longest kiss. They rode a buss uninterrupted for 46 hours, 24 minutes and 9 seconds. The previous record was 32 hours, nothing to sneeze at. One would hope.

Well, more power to them. When you’re 20-something and have lips of steel, 46 hours of frivolous and basically incomprehensible behavior is expected. I think you remember. I, on the other hand, though I love my wife, am not about to suggest we enter any kissing contests. I'm simply not the man I used to be, if indeed I ever was the man I used to be.

Besides, there are logistics to think about. Have you recently spent nearly two full days without seeing a bathroom? It’s not something that immediately comes to mind as beneficent, though I suppose if I did my doctor might at least excuse me from prostate exams for the next few years. Suppose you get the hiccups, or a more severe form of gastrointestinal upheaval. Use your imagination. Proximity does not always breed intimacy.

Taxing
And consider the time element. Here are a few other things you can do in 46 hours: Watch an entire season of "Swamp People." Almost finish doing your taxes. Complete an average, American, 46-hour work week (according to the National Sleep Foundation, my patron organization).

I'd do pretty well anything to avoid doing my taxes, but not, as it turns out, competitive kissing. Still, I'm not worried about our relationship. As the song says, "The fundamental things apply, as time goes by." Like taking out the garbage.