Doing my bit for the aged

The other night, Wayne and Keren invited us out to meet Keren’s father, who was passing through Dubai.

We all met up outside Le Royal Mirage, and I thought it might be a nice gesture to kiss the old boy in greeting. I was going for his left cheek, but as I zoomed in it appeared that he was going for my right. So I corrected – unfortunately in the split second that he did also. We were heading right for each other, dead centre, bang on target; we were both committed and there was no backing out of the deal and it all went a bit slo-mo and well, I smooched the man.

In the past I have been known to misjudge the social kiss. Occasionally I’ve inadvertently headbutted my target and once I licked someone’s nose. On this occasion, I am sorry to report that it was a xxx-rated full-frontal snog. Well, there were no tongues involved, so maybe it was xx. But I think I displaced his dentures, which would elevate it to xx›. I was so caught up in the moment I only just stopped myself squeezing his arse (it was a close thing), but as I disengaged there was a glorious suction sound effect with a slurpy bass.

Of course, I was MORTIFIED. I’ve always assumed there is a natural force field surrounding my obicularis oris which automatically repels everything venturing within 1cm of it with the exception of Husband, Ceara and a variety of foodstuffs.

It appeared to have failed.

“Oh my god!” I said to Keren. “I’ve just snogged your father!”

“I hate to think what she gets up to when I’m not STANDING RIGHT BESIDE HER,” said Husband.

We went into the restaurant and when I sat down, there was a big kerfuffle between Husband and Frank (hey, I snogged the man; we’re on first name terms) as to who should sit beside me. Frank was closest to the available seat, but he was obviously worried his daughter’s nymphomaniac friend might grope him under the table or try to feed him bite-sized portions of hammour off her fork. He pushed Husband at me and sat at the other side of the table.

I dreaded taking leave at the end of the evening. Should I attempt another kiss? Try a hug? Go for full coitus in the lobby? I mean, after that start we couldn’t revert to shaking hands.

“How about I go for that cheek?” I said, pointing with some trepidation. So he presented the cheek indicated, which I chastely kissed. Then the other – daring man.

Probably the most action the old boy has seen in years