The joy of no X: my guide to kissiquette
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Version 0 of 1. The other day a colleague ended an online message to me by sending “bedroom wishes”. After calling the police and having her done for sexual harassment I realised that she had fallen prey to “texter’s curse”: a strange mix of an autocorrect misfire and a Freudian slip in which you type exactly what you secretly meant to say, as if by accident. And what an amazing coincidence, as Freud would sarcastically note, that so many of these textual mistakes actually have a sexual tinge. In the digital age, sexual-textual etiquette is a dicey area. Do you end your text with one kiss, two kisses, a hug or just a string of big-pixel emoticons depicting an aggressively drunken boob squeeze and unwanted office grope? Given that children are now living in a horrifically pornified world, and trading utterly self-exposing and self-objectifying sexual images via their mobiles long before they’ve developed an authentic sensuality of their own, it might seem quaint to be debating something as tame as “kissiquette”. But then, what would I know? But for one tragic mistake, I’ve been celibate for 16 years. Yes, that includes kissing But it’s all part of the same thing: either you know how to behave, or you don’t. Either you have some poise, dignity and self-containment or you’re the type of emotionally unrigorous, cocky, over-familiar, mannerless millennial that ends a text to a solicitor with “xxxx”. Any critique of this kind of behaviour draws the accusation of prudery, and I am happy to acknowledge I am certainly a prude, and long may it continue. The idea that you would send kisses to anyone at all strikes me as incredibly crude and also oddly sexually incontinent and uncool. It’s like trying to prove to the world that you’re this breezy, Euro-chic type of socialite, instead of an uptight Brit with clammy texting hands, sitting in an office sending overly casual messages to people you barely know. I comport myself in text as I do in real life – with maximal coldness – and you should too. If someone sends you three kisses, you should respond with none, and if someone sends you one, you should respond as if writing a legal letter, using their full name at the beginning and your full name at the end. If you’re texting a colleague, then end snappily with just your initials to let them know that this is as close as they will ever get to human intimacy with you. Imagine that the screen is a face. If you don’t want to put a kiss on the person’s face and know what their living, breathing cheek skin feels like against your lips, don’t put a kiss on the screen. People may argue that long “x” and “o” streams are now common, and you should lighten up and get with it because it’s just typed letters, not an actual orgy. But your job, as someone who actually does have some decorum, is to lead by example and drag the sloppy texters up out of the gutter and into a better future. Related: A grown-up's guide to sexting (or, why you should stop worrying about what your teenagers get up to online) | Rhiannon Lucy Cosslett If in doubt, the best thing to do is ask oneself: what would Jane Austen do? Do not over-egg this and mimic the totally steamy love letter Captain Wentworth writes to Anne Elliot in Persuasion – “You pierce my soul”. That is not appropriate when responding to a courtesy text from Scrivens opticians reminding you your contact lens check is due. But bear in mind that Austen’s female characters might kiss each other if they are longstanding friends or very close relatives, but would address everyone else with a neat mixture of cordiality and distance. But then, what would I know? But for one tragic mistake, I’ve been celibate for 16 years. Yes, that includes kissing; I’m not Ms Everything But. The last people to text me were Halifax plc, checking a transaction I made on Expedia. They ended their message with the words: “Thanks for using our fraud service.” They didn’t kiss me, I didn’t kiss them, and we were both happy. |