Call it a crisis, call it a decline, call it a recession: the long, lusty snog is in trouble, harder to experience in real life or even watch on screen. But why? And what\u2019s it like to think you may never lock lips with another?<\/p>\n
Spencer\u2019s last kiss was two years ago, on a first date. It started off promisingly: after matching on Tinder, they met for a walk, then got drinks and ice-cream, before having dinner at her place. Finally, they kissed. \u201cI didn\u2019t like it,\u201d says Spencer. He still struggles to identify why. \u201cI found her attractive. There was chemistry, but something was lacking. There was nothing behind the kiss \u2013 it felt like a mechanical thing to do.\u201d<\/p>\n
That wasn\u2019t just Spencer\u2019s most recent kiss \u2013 it was his first ever, at the age of 29. Now 31, he says a second kiss in some ways feels less possible than having sex: \u201cThe jump feels way bigger.\u201d<\/p>\n
We are living through a crisis of intimacy: more people are reportedly single and having less sex. But behind those headlines there is a smaller but no less significant finding: we may also be in a kissing recession. In a recent YouGov survey, commissioned by oral care brand Waken, more than a third of British adults reported kissing romantically less often than they did five years ago. Nearly one in five hadn\u2019t been kissed in more than a year, while 27% believed kissing is becoming less common.<\/p>\n
For gen Z in particular, self-consciousness may be a factor. The Waken survey found that those aged 18 to 24 fretted about the \u201cright moment\u201d for a kiss, and whether they might be bad at it. A third said they had avoided a kiss because they lacked confidence. This tallies with research consistently showing that young people today are more risk-averse than those in the past, abstaining not just from sex but also from alcohol and drugs.<\/p>\n
Blair, who is 24 and non-binary, has only had three kisses in total since their teens, despite a six-year long-distance relationship. \u201cEven though we had been together for years, I felt quite self-conscious, insecure and daunted by having so little experience,\u201d they say. Now, \u201cthe thought of kissing someone I don\u2019t know to the same degree makes me want to shrink away like a turtle\u201d. They say they\u2019ve always lacked confidence, but it worsened through the Covid-19 pandemic. Today, like many in their generation, they prefer the homebody lifestyle. \u201cI have never been to a bar or club, I have never tried dating \u2026 I barely go anywhere that isn\u2019t work or the cinema \u2013 which is to say, I never find or put myself in situations where kissing someone is even a possibility,\u201d they say. \u201cEven if I did, I don\u2019t think I could find the nerve.\u201d<\/p>\n
Though more pronounced in gen Z, this risk aversion \u2013 linked to less time spent face-to-face with friends \u2013 goes broader. \u201cPeople are not talking to strangers, or asking each other on dates,\u201d says Sarah Stein Lubrano, a social theorist who is writing a book about this \u201csocial atrophy\u201d. Kissing is a telling example, because it makes use of skills such as reading facial expressions, body language and subtle social cues that may be getting rusty with our dependence on tech. Its reported decline should concern us all, Lubrano says, \u201cnot because everyone needs to be in romantic relationships, but because overall it means less social connection, less commitment, less belonging\u201d.<\/p>\n
Compared with the challenges of finding a partner or having sex, kisses may seem trivial, especially to older generations who exchanged them freely. But the reported kissing recession is part of a broader breakdown in connection, attributed to the rise in digital communication, the decline of shared spaces and nightlife, shifting gender relations and even fears of surveillance. When two people were filmed kissing in New York\u2019s Central Park last month, the clip went viral, attracting 4 million views on TikTok and many mocking comments.<\/p>\n
Kissing has always been a mirror of its times, says Katie Barclay, a professor at Macquarie University, Sydney. In her new book The Kiss: A History of Passion and Power, she traces its evolution since medieval times and concludes that we really are kissing less today. Through the 19th century the kiss became the main symbol of romantic and physical intimacy, but as culture has become more visual and explicit, romantic kissing has receded in prominence and meaning. \u201cIt\u2019s not as interesting \u2013 it doesn\u2019t have the same erotic capacity as it used to, which is maybe why people are kissing less in general,\u201d Barclay says.<\/p>\n
In these pornified times, first base scarcely registers. A 2022 study found that kissing was \u201csignificantly less prevalent\u201d in male-female pornographic videos than in the typical experiences of American adults. Even romantic comedies might foreground sex over the \u201csnog on the couch\u201d leading up to it, Barclay points out. And while kissing may be glossed over publicly, privately the issue has become more fraught, with the #MeToo movement raising awareness of the importance of consent. Though a positive shift, this adds another layer of complexity and raises the stakes of misjudging the moment. \u201cNow it can be, and is, seen as a harm,\u201d Barclay says.<\/p>\n
That seriousness has complicated a youthful rite of passage. \u201cI\u2019m definitely very self-conscious about romantic intimacy \u2013 but it\u2019s not for lack of trying,\u201d says Carrie, 23. Her final two-and-a-half years of secondary school were conducted online due to the pandemic: \u201cI do feel like I missed out.\u201d Carrie has been on \u201cplenty\u201d of dates since, \u201cbut nothing has happened \u2013 it\u2019s frustrating\u201d. She feels scared and too inexperienced to make a move; her dates may have felt the same, she adds. \u201cI\u2019m not sure how to take charge in those situations. I don\u2019t want to look like an idiot.\u201d<\/p>\n
Carrie nonetheless remains hopeful. Older people who have missed out on the milestone fear their moment has passed. \u201cI put myself out there, but no one is interested,\u201d says Joseph, 36. He uses dating apps, has gone to singles events and feels confident approaching women, but says it has never led to an opportunity to kiss. \u201cIn the past, you had places to connect locally and strike up relationships, whether platonic or not. It allowed you to build up social skills. Nowadays, people are glued to their phones and stay at home.\u201d<\/p>\n
Even if it didn\u2019t lead to more, Joseph says a kiss would give him confidence and hope, \u201cthe sense of being wanted \u2013 the experience of it\u201d. He worries that there is something wrong with him, and that he will for ever be unloved and alone. Therapy hasn\u2019t helped. \u201cI\u2019ve learned not to hope any more because it just brings about a lot of pain.\u201d<\/p>\n
Joseph emphasises that he doesn\u2019t hold women responsible for his situation, but he fears his inexperience will become more of a disadvantage as he gets older. \u201cLet\u2019s face it: a guy that hasn\u2019t had a kiss in his mid-30s is seen as a major red flag to some women, consciously or unconsciously.\u201d<\/p>\n
Rodrigo, 31, conceals his lack of experience from friends, afraid of ridicule and being judged as a misogynistic \u201cincel\u201d. \u201cUnfortunately, we all get grouped in that negative category,\u201d he says. He has no time for men who blame their lack of sexual success on women, instead of looking inward. \u201cSome of those guys have become really blind to what\u2019s wrong with them.\u201d<\/p>\n