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"I would like to provide a glimpse into the oftentimes barren psyche of the male species. I&amp;#039;ll sift through the sports statistics, pick-up lines and other variations on testosterone and focus on a situation where the man finds himself in a subordinate, awkward position: the first kiss. I am the worst at it. I called a former girlfriend and asked her to comment on my first mouth-to-mouth come-on. &amp;quot;You took for freaking ever--I was about to fall asleep on you!&amp;quot; she laughed. How true: I waited until the end of the movie we rented to plant one on her lips. But it&amp;#039;s not like I wasn&amp;#039;t thinking about it. It was all I was thinking about--to the point that I didn&amp;#039;t catch even the vaguest hint of that fateful movie&amp;#039;s plot.  What happens is, I get caught in this vortex of fear and anxiety. I build up the importance of the moment and as a result come close to a heart attack before I force myself to move in. Is it just me? Not according to my research. After prodding and poking the egos of a few friends, I came to the conclusion that every guy experiences some degree of anxiety during the first move. But it&amp;#039;s such a schizo situation. On one hand, it&amp;#039;s uncomfortable, but on the other, guys like to make the first move because we like to be in control (we&amp;#039;re guys) and we like the chase (we&amp;#039;re guys). To further complicate things, I asked the same bunch of guys if a woman were to make the first move, would they consider her a slut--and all of them replied in the negative, ultimately inviting the opportunity. Anyhow, just a few months ago I was in a situation where I had to go for broke and try for a kiss. A couple I know invited me to a picnic in their wooded backyard. Among the guests was one stunning young lady whom I noticed immediately. I nudged the hostess to introduce me. Her name was Jessica. I saw that she was running a little low on cider so I offered to fill her up, but she smiled and said she&amp;#039;d go get us both some. &amp;quot;OK!&amp;quot; I thought as I sat down at a lopsided picnic table. &amp;quot;This is going well...don&amp;#039;t screw it up!&amp;quot; She sat down across from me and we started talking--banal chit-chat at first, then stuff about our families, our ambitions...everything. We were really enjoying each other&amp;#039;s company and I was digging the hell out of her. In other words, we hit it off big time. Suddenly, I desperately wanted to kiss her--and the time was right. The sun had gone down and everyone else had adjourned to the house. Jessica and I were finally alone. I&amp;#039;d like to say I walked around the picnic table and swept her off her feet like a Superfly Mack, but no. I got up, fetched another round of cider and sat down next to her. Moment of silence. You could cut the air with a knife. I had taken a dive into severe self-consciousness. Weird, since I had spent the last three hours being totally relaxed with her--then wham! I felt like one of those kamikaze mosquitoes that fly straight into a 1000-watt bug zapper. I started talking: &amp;quot;OK, Jess, look, I don&amp;#039;t know how you feel, but I seem to find myself in the most awkward position right now. And, uh, I feel sort of criminal about it because I don&amp;#039;t want to ruin a possible friendship and put you in an embarrassing situation, but I assume you&amp;#039;re having as good a time as I am...not that your having a nice time gives me any rights or anything...but I was thinking of, well, maybe leaning over and, uh, kissing you....&amp;quot; There was a seemingly enormous pause. As every half-second ticked by, I was sure she would flee into the house to get away from the presumptuous sex-fiend dork in the backyard. Instead, she turned to me and said, &amp;quot;You better kiss me.&amp;quot; Today, Jessica is my girlfriend. She calls my first move &amp;quot;cute.&amp;quot; I call it &amp;quot;hell.&amp;quot; "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.seventeen.com/love/dating-advice/advice/a11536/652858/>