Hickies: It’s Time to Grow Up

When I was around 8, maybe 9, I was sitting at home. As a young child I spent my time entertaining myself through various means, such as playing outside, watching television, building with blocks, and discovering weird things about the human body.  Now before you got and think I’m talking about something completely outrageous and sinful, ie masturbation, which is completely healthy and manifests in children at a young ages.  I’m talking about what skin does when it experiences stress.

I was biting my bicep, as children do, and began to suck on it because I think I was pretending to be a vampire, who even knows.  I was delighted to see that my sucking was resulting in what looked like a bruise.  Bruises when you’re a kid, are like fucking tattoos, and I was amazed that I could get a bruise without the effort of actually injuring myself.  By the end of the abuse, it was so red it was almost purple.  I proudly showed my mother my handiwork, only to have her inform me that that was not in fact a bruise, but a hickey.

Flash forward about a day:  I’m at a swim meet sitting in the bleachers with the parents.  One of them turns to me and asks what I did to my arm and proudly proclaim, “It’s a hickey!”  Looking back, I am not surprised that they all proceeded to lose their shit and laugh.  One of the parents then asked me who had given it to me, I annoyingly explained that I had DONE IT TO MYSELF.  I swear the woman almost fell off the damn bleachers she was laughing so hard.  I was now more confused than ever, because my mother had failed to mention the sexual implications surrounding hickies. I’m not blaming you mother, I’m simply telling you that I’m a bit salty with you for making me look like a dumbass.  But that’s childhood for you, am I right?

It wasn’t until I watched Grease and Russo gets a hickey from Kenickie.  I was not embarassed then, but years later I was mortified.


Let’s skip forward again:  High school Saba and her pride in her hickies.  In high school, hickies are now the tattoos you have before you can actually get tattoos.  They’re these red and purple badges that you proudly wear on your neck at school, but hide from your parents.  I mean you friends are more than welcome to give you high fives for the action you got last night, your parents still need to think you were at the library studying Spanish.

You can’t tell me you all didn’t have the same experience?  The I’m-totally-covering-these-up-but-my-scarf-will-get-“hot”-and-I’ll-take-it-off-so-you-see-my-hickies-anyway sort of day.  Nah?  Well I know you’re lying because I saw you, I saw all of you, boys and girls and your little smirks when people asked what you got into last night.  Don’t play coy with me! I mean they were great, and if you didn’t have them, you wanted them.  They were a sign of your budding sexuality and that’s great, let your freak flags fly you hormone crazy bastards!

Now let’s skip forward to today, when I have to go to work and some MOTHERFUCKING ASSHOLE left three goddamn hickies on my neck and it’s 90 degrees out so I can’t wear a scarf.  How am I supposed to cover those up Stephen!?  HOW!?!?  *Names have been changed to protect identity*


Don’t get me wrong, neck nibbles and bites are great, you’re in the moment, you get rough, I understand that mistakes happen. But once you reach a certain age, please stop leaving hickies on people unless they can be covered by clothing.  I’m supposed to be pretending to be an adult, and you’re making it very difficult when I have to spend 30 minutes in the morning crafting a perfect shade of foundation to cover up your handiwork.

I can’t say that I’m not also responsible for these things.  I have been known to get a little to rough and leave a bit of a mark.  So that’s why this is important.  It feels immature to flounce your coitus in front of other people in the form of hickies because now rather than having the cool kid implication, it feels childish.  At this point in your life, you should be able to just brag to your friends about it, without showing the whole world.  I mean yes, they can be a fun way to relive your youth, but so is car sex, go do that instead.

Take this as a PSA.  Stop giving hickies, we’re not 17 anymore, and they’ll kill you.

This has been a Public Service Announcement for the advancement of chest and stomach hickies.



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