Sunday, 9 November 2014


I occasionally surf Twitter for inspiration (along with other courses of inspiration such as "go and make a cup of tea", "masturbate furiously", "cry hysterically", "question life" and "go and make another cup of tea"), but it usually avails me naught - however, today I happened to chance across this tweet from Cammies on the Floor (I've no idea which one of them it is...) revealing a pair of well-proportioned boobs, upon one of which is a revealing red mark referred to as a "hickey" - or love bite.

I'm not going to query exactly how far one has to go to get a love bite on one's left breast. But it's been a long time since I've actually seen any.

I don't find pain sexy, but then there's only a small amount of pain involved, from my experience - it's more of a sucking sensation and a small amount of patience, but the little red mark left behind - the bite, I'm assuming - does tend to draw a few glances from the initiated, and the bitten (can I use that word? Bitée? Let's go with "bitten") person can have various attitudes towards it as well, whether it's just a side-effect from the heat of passion or something deliberate by which to remember the... erm... biter.

These words are difficult to think of.

I used to get love bites myself, although I didn't ask for them, and not in any particular quantity - although I was once asked by a girl at school - one of the unabashed ones - "hey, is that a phat love bite on your neck?", to which I had to answer truthfully. I was also once asked the same question - I believe in the same week - at work (I had one of those gruelling Sunday jobs), although thankfully by a customer. I vaguely remember telling my manager I got hit by a golf ball; it may not be too believable, but then I did get hit in the face by a football at one point - so maybe that was just one more to add to the collection.

My occasional love bite wasn't too much of an issue, though. Lightsinthesky once turned up to school looking like he'd been savaged by a partially transformed werewolf with a penchant for particularly blue meat. It wasn't much of a mystery as to who was responsible, but Lightsinthesky may as well have drawn big circles around his bites with a Magic Marker for how obvious they were. Lisa herself turned up after school one day and Lightsinthesky started kissing her shoulder in reciprocation, causing most of us to shudder a little. Warman then went off to projectile-vomit into a bush.

So as to not go on to speculate on how far down on his body she left love bites ("there are more," he claimed - I didn't ask him to elaborate), I'll move on to those who wish to hide their bites. I've heard stories - we all have, one supposes - about people who try to save face by using layers on makeup to hide the marks, or use long hair artistically fallen or simply not turning up to a place... which I've always found a bit drastic. I've never found love bites particularly offensive, myself. Mind you, everyone has their own hang-ups.

A little like one of my friends who texted me while I was on holiday.

How did the date with Ryan go?, I enquired from Venezia.

Not well, she admitted via international text. He gave me a love bite on my neck about the size of a small country. Bloody thing. I've been covering it up with turtleneck jumpers.

Once again providing evidence that there's always a sexual reason for many fashions.

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