A couple of months ago, I stopped by my local pub for a beer and ended up going home with the cocktail waitress. I know it was tacky, but she was sexy and I hadn’t been in this position in a long time, so I was WAY too excited to even consider how I might feel after the fact. Sure enough, within seconds of “finishing,” I found myself wishing I could slither through the floorboards and dissolve into a puddle of shame and regret. It’s fundamentally unsatisfying to get naked too early, but that doesn’t seem keep us all from giving it a try every once in a while.

First of all, I have a confession to make, and I guarantee you I’m not the only man who feels this way: It’s not just “a girl thing.” Kissing is as big a deal to me as it is to you. Kissing is basically fucking, only with lips and tongue and mouth instead of – well, whatever works, I guess. If a woman can’t kiss, it’s biologically guaranteed that she’ll be lousy in bed too. If a woman can kiss (and most can, if you ask me), it’s her way of telling you that there’s plenty more where this comes from, without giving up an ounce of her dignity. Kissing is PG-13; good kissing, a strong R.

Kissing isn’t just the first thing, it’s everything. I once made out with a woman who opened her mouth so wide it was as if she was trying to swallow me whole. It was awful. I went from begging to get naked with her to making excuses to leave within five minutes of our first kiss. Another time, many years earlier, a woman kept biting my lip while we made out. When I complained, she offered to have me bite hers instead – hard. I was out of her apartment like the Road Runner cartoon character. I won’t speak for all men, but I will speak for one of them: Kissing is indeed, when done right, sexier than sex. When done wrong? Well, see above.

The problem is adulthood. When we were in high school, maybe even college, making out meant only one thing – making out. Upon adulthood, opportunities become more random, patience wears thinner and judgment is often impaired. As adults, making out is no longer simply making out – it’s a two minute pit stop before racing to that finish line. Instead of enjoying the moment, we’re sprinting beyond it. Upon adulthood, kissing still manages to retain its excitement – but it completely loses its innocence.

This is where “The Rules” piss me off, and simply don’t apply. Without speaking to you beforehand, but knowing you as I do, I know exactly what you did the other night. You decided, before he even knocked on your door, that you were having sex with this man. That’s not the part that pisses me off, though. It’s that you’re too embarrassed to admit it. You’ve been trained and molded by “The Rules” to feel badly about yourself for deciding to get laid. If it had been ME who had a woman come to my door and all we did was stay in and get naked on our first date, they would have thrown me a parade. But it was you, and that’s simply not acceptable. Have you ever noticed that “The Rules” only apply to women?

I’m glad you “kind of don’t care.” You shouldn’t. Just to be safe though, how about waiting to hear from this new guy you just made out with?