"Nothing could prepare me for the horror that was about to take place in my mouth.”

Gag reflex warning: The Editor has insisted we warn all of our readers that parts of this post are…. kinda gross.

I’d like to tell you about what is possibly one of the most selfless and heroic things I’ve ever done, and ever will do, for humanity.

I once taught a guy how to kiss.

I met him at a club (this was back when I was cool and young and did things other than drink wine at home in my underpants), and it was one of those situations where it was obvious from the second we started talking to each other that we were going to make out.

We exchanged a few obligatory drunken pleasantries, but as is the way with random hook-ups that take place on a seedy club bench at 2am, subtlety was not really on the cards. One second we were talking, the next we were lunging at each other’s faces.

Now, I fully understand that kissing is a subjective thing. Not everybody likes the same technique and it generally takes a few minutes of awkward adjusting before you fall into an acceptable rhythm with someone. But that is not what happened here.

Nothing could prepare me for the horror that was about to take place in my mouth.

It was like a fat slug had rolled around in mucus and was now trying to mate with my tongue. And the poor little guy couldn’t decide where he wanted to go. First he was trying to lick the back of my throat. Then he was trying to coat the entire circumference of my lips with saliva. Then he would somehow lodge himself between my teeth and the side of my cheek.

I had no idea that a tongue could be soft like an oyster and hard like a tampon at the same time. Just as I was trying to deal with my front teeth being attacked in some kind of frenzied stabbing motion, he would change the game on me completely and start trying to fill my mouth with the seemingly never ending supply of fluid that secreted from his sex-crazed mucus slug.

I was living an actual nightmare.

I was so thrown by what was happening I think my brain actually shut down. It wasn’t until he took his entire tongue, inserted it as far into my mouth as it would go and then just left it sitting there, perfectly still, that I had a second to think.

This wasn’t just me being a picky kisser. There was something seriously wrong here. This guy needed help, and if I didn’t offer it to him, he might subject some poor other girl to his oyster tampon. I couldn’t let that happen.

So right there, while my tongue was completely submerged by his, I decided that I could not, in all good conscience, walk away from this encounter without making sure it would never happen to anyone ever again. Ever.

I needed to provide an important public service. And even though I wanted to turn and run with every fibre of my being, I decided to stay. For women everywhere. I was a fucking hero.

I dislodged his mouth from mine and stretched my tongue out a few times.

“Um… What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Yeah. We need to talk,” I said. “That was really, really bad.”

Keep in mind I was pretty inebriated/traumatised so I wasn’t exactly swimming in tact. He seemed genuinely shocked.

“What?!?”

“Yeah. Look. You seem really nice. And I can tell you’re really trying. But I just can’t let you walk away from this… situation, thinking that was in any way enjoyable.”

“What?!?”

“Have you ever had a girlfriend beyond a few dates?”

“No.”

“And can you think of a time where a girl has been willing to kiss you for more than a few minutes straight?”

It was starting to dawn on him.

“Um… No.”

“It’s okay,” I said, feeling more and more like a saviour/Oprah as time went on. I put a hand on his shoulder and looked into his eyes like the hero that I was: “I can help you.”

I then spent about 45 minutes with this guy, taking things right back to basics. Literally – basics.  I actually had to explain that noses are not a part of the face that need to be taken entirely into the mouth.

We also covered the basic functionality of the tongue, and explored the idea that just because you think yours can reach the back of someone else’s throat, doesn’t mean you have to prove it.

It was an informative and thorough lesson, and by the end of it he had the basic skills needed to kiss me without making me want to vomit in his mouth. Success.

We practiced a few more times, and when I was confident he was ready to be unleashed on the female population, I let him go.

That was a few years ago now. I still think back on him from time to time and wonder how he’s doing. He no doubt remembers me as some kind of wise, selfless demigod.

And who am I to correct him? I did a good deed that night. A good deed for him and a good deed for women everywhere.

You’re welcome, ladies.

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Ever had a bad kiss? Was it worse than the oyster/tampon?  Is Rosie the most selfless, noble person you have ever come across?