Every time my husband sees people kissing in a movie or show I see him roll his eyes and groan. For him, there is rarely a valid time when two people should kiss in media. I have observed him carefully at such times and have found that the time to plant a juicy pucker, is, for him, pretty much non-existent.
We ourselves kiss regularly--sometimes good and steamy kisses--sometimes just pecks or playful kisses. Our kissing activities are in no way disgusting to the Hubs.
But there's always some reason why that movie kiss should never have taken place. Either they haven't known each other for long enough, or there is some other mitigating circumstance: one of the kissers is a vampire, or too young, or too old, or Death Incarnate, or too silly, or too damaged or too evil or too misunderstood, ad nauseum ad infinitum. And the Hubs makes that fact loudly known, thus wrecking the moment.
We were watching Meet Joe Black the other day when he came in right at a kissing scene. He rolled his eyes and announced, "Well that's obviously a bad idea." Never mind that Brad Pitt was so hot it made my teeth hurt and their kisses were steaming up my glasses. I could have done without the lousy language and the raunchy scene but the kisses were bliss!
I didn't want to think about what a stinking bad idea it was to kiss Death. I wanted to think about what he, as an avatar incarnate, was experiencing for the first time--how it must have felt to compare that set of sensations to peanut butter or any of the other firsts he had recently encountered. I wanted to be the lucky girl at the other end of his lips for a few seconds.
A frisson would have run up my back and jigged through my brain if it weren't for Sighing Man over there making fun of the rich girl kissing the dessicated dead guy, or rather the collector of post mortal people.
And don't get me started on vampires. Hubby's groans can be heard clear down the street when he strolls into our room while I'm having a private viewing of Twilight or Vampire Diaries (private for obvious reasons here revealed). He simply can't wrap his brain around the trifecta of old guys, blood-sucking demons, and rotting corpses.
Even Mr. Darcy elicits a groan of gargantuan proportions. I can see the words play across the invisible ticker tape on his forehead: "But he's a snobby jerk to her! What's she kissing him for? Look at that, she only wanted him after she saw his house."