The Unwanted Kiss on Hall & Oates' List

As you’re no doubt already aware, Hall & Oates just released their annual Best Things in Life list, and what do you know? My kiss is on there for the 27th year in a row! Jeez, you join one throuple in college, and it follows you for life.

I know I should be flattered, but honestly, it reeks of desperation. Like, I get it, we had some good times — some really good times if I’m being honest — but that was a lifetime ago when we were all young, dumb, and full of … well, you get the idea. It’s time to let it go and move on. “We’ll always have Paris,” and all that horseshit.

Apparently when you’re the most successful pop duo of all time with record sales in excess of 80 million units worldwide you can kiss and tell all you want and nobody says boo. Well, I’m saying it. I’m saying boo.

What’s so special about me anyway? I’ve kissed dozens of men and women since my fling with Daryl and John all those years ago, and none of them have felt the need to catalogue my smooches like a psychopath, nor should they. I’m an above-average kisser at best. Not bad, but nothing to write home about and certainly nothing to put on a goddamn list.

I’ve been begging those two to take my kiss off their list for years, but they refuse as if they’re hoping that we might still get back together. Oates got his little mustache in such a twist over it last year that he sent me a bag of gourmet coffee with a note attached that said, “You mocha my dreams come true.” I’ll admit, it was cute, but I’m married with kids, for Christ’s sake! I’m not leaving my family just for a little slap and tickle with the guys who sang “Maneater.”

I recently tried to take it off the list myself, but it’s harder than deleting a Facebook account. First, I had to call the official Hall & Oates hotline, which is automated by the way. I had to navigate six menus before I reached an actual person, and then, get this, the bastard put me on hold! Guess what the hold music was? That’s right, fucking Hall & Oates. Ironically, it was “I Can’t Go For That” which was exactly how I felt after being on hold for twenty minutes.”

Eventually, I just gave up. If those clowns want the world to know how much they love my kisses, so be it. I’m not happy about it, but what else can I do? After all, there are worse lists to be on, like the Epstein List or People Magazine’s Worst Dressed list. When it comes down to it, I suppose I should be flattered. Now, if I could just get the Doobie Brothers to publicly admit that “Black Water” is not about that time I shit myself behind the Torrance, California Taco Bell in 1972…