hickeys

This is not a hickey. It's actually a paintball wound from this Saturday's festivities for Erik's birthday. But it looks like a hickey, and it's making this week's wardrobe one of scarves and turtlenecks.

And it's got me thinking about hickeys...

My first hickey was when I was around 6 yrs old. I think my brother came home with hickeys on his neck and that was how we learned about them. It was a phenomenon at the time, and being fascinated, Kimi and I sucked on our hands and arms until we had the maroonish brands tattooed up and down. I remember getting questioned by our gymnist teacher, who pulled us aside and asked us what the marks were from. I didn't want to tell her, and she probably initially thought that we were hiding a serious secret, because I remember her being very concerned and talking to us in a cooing "it's okay" kind of voice. She even asked if they were burn marks. When I finally confessed she stared at us like we were two strange children. It was an awkward moment to say the least.

I can't remember my first "real" hickey... as in one that I got from necking with a boy... I think it may have been early college... I remember never wanting them on my neck, but secretly enjoying the ones that only I knew about. There was something about them... a sense of ownership, taboo, something... I'm not sure how to quite explain it, and as I try to right now, I'm wondering if I'm branding myself as that same weird 6 yr old all over again. .

Nowadays I can't stand hickeys. Early in our dating Erik accidentally gave me a few during the phase of our courtship when we were like high school kids all over again. I yelled then cried. It was an overdramatic reaction, but it was seriously how I felt.

So you can imagine how it feels to have this nice new mark glaring on my neck... sigh.