Last night, I drunkenly hooked up with some guy I met in a bar. Wait, is that an overshare? If you're my grandkids and you're reading this because it's the future and you just googled me; I'm kidding. It's some kind of humor from the past that you don't get. Now go play outside or something.
Around lunch, after having already left the house TWICE, I noticed that my neck and chest are fucking COVERED in hickeys. Also, it's pretty depressing that I didn't look at a mirror until lunch. I should probably start investing more time in my appearance.
That picture up there doesn't do his gross, horny masterpiece any justice. They're fucking HUGE and red and they go all the way around my neck in a way that means no garment can cover them.
It's not just my neck, either. This is what my nipple currently looks like. Again, it doesn't look so bad in the picture, but I assure you, my entire chest looks like a Russian alcoholic's face. And it fucking HURTS too.
To be clear, I didn't give the guy permission to do it. Nor did I realize he was doing it at the time. What the fuck is wrong with people? Why would anyone ever think that would be a good idea? Hickeys are the most pointless thing in the entire world. They don't feel good to give OR to receive, and you're left with a temporary disfigurement that lets the entire world know you're the sort of person who's into hickeys. And the guy doing it had no idea what I was doing with my day today. I could've had a big important meeting, or been going for lunch with my parents. I mean, I didn't do either of those things—the most important thing I've done today is go and buy a coffee—but he didn't know that.
And before another person tells me to use concealer to cover them up—are you insane? Can you imagine how horrifying it would be when someone realizes? Then, not only do I have hickeys, I have makeup on too. Fuck that.
I would have called the guy up who gave them to me to find out what the fuck he was thinking. But unfortunately, I didn't catch his name or number (seriously, grandkids, stop reading this) so I called up a friend of mine who had previously told me that he was into hickeys to find out what's happening in his broken brain.
VICE: So. What is wrong with you?
Idiot Friend Who Didn't Want Me to Use His Name: What do you mean?
Why do you like giving hickeys?
I don't know, they're just hot.
But then what? You just walk around with them out there? Do you not have a job? Or a family? Or friends? Or any thought for what strangers in the street might think of you?
I guess I just don't really care what other people think of me.
Eugh. You're one of those. Well, what is it that you like about them?
I don't know… They're hot?
Do you like giving them or receiving them?
What's hot about them?
I don't know… They're just… hot.
OK. Cool. You've been very insightful. Thanks.
To conclude: Based on the evidence we've seen here, people who give hickeys are idiots.
From now on, if someone gives me one of these without my prior written consent, I am suing them.
Follow Jamie on Twitter - @JLCT