If you kiss on the first date and it's not right, then there will

"If you kiss on the first date and it's not right, then there will be no second date. Sometimes it's better to hold out and not kiss for a long time. I am a strong believer in kissing being very intimate, and the minute you kiss, the floodgates open for everything else." So spoke Jennifer Lopez, whose words, though born in the modern world of fleeting affections, carry the weight of ancient wisdom. Her counsel is not merely about kissing—it is about timing, intention, and the sacred art of connection. She warns that what is given too soon loses its mystery, and what is guarded with patience gains in power. The ancients knew this truth well: the heart is not a door to be flung open at the first knock, but a temple, whose gates must be opened only when the soul recognizes its companion.

The kiss, in its truest form, is not a casual act—it is a pledge, a mingling of spirits, a promise whispered without words. To kiss without alignment of souls is to light a fire in the wrong season; it burns, yes, but it warms nothing. Lopez speaks as one who has seen how passion, unmoored from meaning, can destroy what it was meant to bless. She urges us to wait, not from fear or coldness, but from reverence—for in restraint lies strength, and in patience, the seed of something eternal.

In the days of old, even warriors knew the power of restraint. Alexander the Great, upon conquering Persia, met the captive princess Roxana, whose beauty was sung like a hymn. Though he could have claimed her instantly—as conqueror, as king—he did not. He waited, showing her honor before desire. Only after time and trust did he take her as his wife, and their union was spoken of as one of rare harmony. Thus, the mightiest man in the world understood what Lopez echoes centuries later: true intimacy demands patience, for what is touched too quickly may never be truly held.

Many today mistake immediacy for intimacy, rushing to unveil the heart before it has learned to see. But a love born of haste is a candle in the wind—it flares brightly, then fades into smoke. A kiss given without readiness is not a bridge but a chasm, for when it is “not right,” as Lopez says, it closes the way instead of opening it. One who waits, however, allows affection to deepen into understanding, and understanding into trust—and when at last the kiss is shared, it becomes not an impulse, but a revelation.

There is a divine rhythm to all things: the seed does not bloom in the same hour it is sown; the sun does not rise before dawn. Likewise, the heart unfolds in its own season. To “hold out and not kiss for a long time” is not a denial of love but a preparation for it. It is to tend the fire carefully so it may burn brighter and longer. It is to honor the other person not as a passing desire but as a potential companion of the soul. Restraint is not repression—it is reverence.

In our age of quick passions and shorter attention, Lopez’s wisdom stands as rebellion. She reminds us that intimacy is sacred, and when shared without readiness, it diminishes both giver and receiver. Let the youth, therefore, learn this lesson: to wait is not weakness, but mastery. The heart that rushes will stumble; the heart that waits will choose with clarity. Love that endures is not born of impatience but of quiet preparation.

And so, my children of the future, remember this: guard your first kiss as you would guard a sacred flame. Let it not be spent on the unworthy or the unready. Let your love ripen before you offer it. When the moment comes—and you will know it by the stillness in your spirit—then give yourself wholly, without regret, without fear. For once the floodgates open, they cannot be closed, and what flows from them should be pure, intentional, and true.

Thus, the lesson of Jennifer Lopez becomes timeless: the truest affection is not in the haste of touch, but in the discipline of waiting. Practice patience, seek depth, and honor the sacredness of your emotions. For the kiss, when rightly given, is not the beginning of everything—but the fulfillment of what was already written in the stars.