It started with a kiss
So I am back. But not in Cyprus. Oh no. I am not back on the island because I am stuck in Warsaw having fun with the local political circus. You may have heard about it. In Poland nowadays it is very dangerous to be a politician or rich businessman (unlike in Cyprus where being either can only be good for you) because it might mean that you belong to “a grey web of conspiracy” which equals, at least, a temporary arrest. But this column won’t be about Poland. It will be about something else. It will be about travels, the art of kissing and the Venice Biennale. Still to start it I need to repeat its beginning: I am back. I am back in the paper, back at my computer, and full of new ideas on what the world should be all about.
Of course, the main reason for all the ideas is the fact that last month I was moving around tirelessly. Travels educate, wise people say, so I was travelling as much as possible to deepen my education. Within more or less 30 days I covered thousands of kilometres (mostly by train), visited five countries, did lots of sightseeing and enjoyed various inspirations that one can only dream of in Nicosia. Still I did not experience two things I have just read that two other female columnists of this paper went through last week on our wonderful island: namely, I neither bumped into a good kisser (well done, Isabelle) nor got engaged (congratulations, Victoria).
However, thanks to a discovery made by scientists at New York’s University at Albany I can comment on these. You see it took academics to determine that, as a rule, the second usually takes place only if the first works. Says psychologist Gordon Gallup, who led the study: “While many forces lead two people to connect romantically, the kiss – particularly the first one – can be a deal-breaker. Kissing is part of an evolved courtship ritual. This may activate mechanisms that function to discourage reproduction among individuals who are genetically incompatible.”
So to cut it short, dear boys and girls, tongue contact and the exchange of saliva during kissing help both sexes make subconscious assessments. If a person is not a good kisser, forget about marrying him or her. Quite simply, it is a waste of time. Sooner or later you will start looking for a better kisser.
Well, I hope that in case of Victoria and Isabelle kissing will always be a wonderful experience but what if it is and still a relationship doesn’t work? Sophie Calle, a conceptual artist who represents France at this year’s Biennale in Venice (yes, yes, I went there as well) is a good example of such a story.
I assume Calle is a good kisser because (as a rule most intelligent women are) but nevertheless, her relationships don’t work. Thank God, as a creative woman, she knows how to deal with it in a constructive way.
For example, in 1985 she won a young artist’s travel grant and went to Japan, arranging with her boyfriend to meet three months later in India. But he never arrived. Instead, he called her in a hotel room in Delhi to tell her that he had fallen in love with someone else.
Calle, madly in love with the guy, recounted obsessively her misery to everyone she met for the following three months, i.e. 99 times (don’t we all go through something like that at least once in our life?), and in return recorded them describing the worst moment of their own lives. In 2003, long after the pain had disappeared, she exhibited her story as an art piece at Paris’ Pompidou Centre.
A year later (what luck), another boyfriend dumped her, this time by email, in Berlin. In response, Calle distributed his letter to 107 women professionals, photographed them reading it and invited them to analyse it, according to their job. The women did their best to help their suffering sister. The ex’s grammar was torn apart by a copy editor, his manners rubbished by an etiquette consultant and his lines pored over by Talmudic scholars. He has been evaluated by a judge, shot up by a markswoman, second-guessed by a chess player, re-ordered by a crossword-setter, and performed by actress Jeanne Moreau. A forensic psychiatrist decided he was a “twisted manipulator”.
Calle called all the above “Take care of yourself” (after the final line of the letter) and took it to Venice. She also stopped suffering and instead became immersed in work. “It worked,” she was quoted by British papers as saying. “The project had replaced the man.”
And it leaves me wondering: what is better, to be with a good kisser or have an interesting project?
