Every time I hear the word "hickey" my mind drifts to the image of a small, red mark upon a happy girl's tender neck. Cute. Sweet. Flirty.

Not so much.

It turns out, in today's world, being seen with a hickey is thought to be trashy and tacky.

I wish I would have been aware of that when my boyfriend decided to kiss my ever-so-sensitive neck in an innocent (yet quite lengthy) manner.
After what seemed like a very pleasurable minute, he gradually stopped kissing my neck, and as I felt the soft pressure of his lips go, he suddenly gasped.
I looked down at him just in time to see him wide-eyed with terror, gawking at my neck.
My heart dropped. What? What is it?

Do I have an embarrassing mole? Pimple? Perhaps an ungodly worm-like monster protruding from my jugular vein?
His shocked gaze seemed to have seen all of the above.

"I...I'm so sorry," he stammered, "Oh god..."

I couldn't take it any longer.

"What do I have?! Tell me!"

He closed his eyes and with a long, annoyed groan, let his head roll back.

"I gave you the biggest hickey in the world babe."

I squealed and shoved him aside, I got up quick and shuffled to the bathroom.
I flipped the switch.
Hickey? More like a punch in the throat.
The dark mark was the size of an orange and was located right in the smack middle.
I uttered a profanity under my breath.

"Are you a Hoover vacuum cleaner or something?!"

I could hear him howling like a hyena back in the living room. He walked over to me and I threw my head back dramatically and allowed him to examine the crime scene closely.
He whistled softly and scratched his head.
"I'm so sorry... Oh God what are your parents going to say?"

I dreaded my parent's reaction. This was bound to be bad.

"I'll just cover it up," I said with an eye roll.

Covering up this massive hickey is like trying to hide an elephant with the help of a towel. Pathetically impossible.

So after a night of ranting and lecturing about good decisions, bad decisions, and more depressing subjects, my parents finally acknowledged how incredibly AWKWARD it was to find out their daughter with a colossal love-bite from her boyfriend. Just thinking about the awkwardness of that night makes me cringe.
I went straight to the internet on a quest to find out how on earth these demonic marks could be forever banished from my flesh.
The result is always the same: ice it.
Although its been said oftentimes, it really does work.

After numbing my neck for 30 mins, I flinched a bit as I carefully unstuck the icepack from my skin and looked in the mirror.
Although it was a bit red and swollen, I could see the difference. No longer black-and-blue.

Just then I thought, hey, why do I need to hide this mark from the world? It may look gross and everything, but after all, its a sign of love.
Think about it like if it was a temporary tattooed kiss.
I would show it off if I could, if people wouldn't judge.
It was a little accident, but it demonstrated and showed me just how much one little thing printed upon the skin can tell
the wrong things about you and change your whole perspective on things...
I wish it weren't like that, to lose your image because of innocent subtleties like those that could've been accidents like mine was.
A hickey is just a hickey. A mark upon the skin, usually the neck. It evokes love and passion, shows the world affection.
In my opinion.