Story of Beth’s First Hickie

You ready for this? It’s going to be very juicy…
At the ripe old age of 25 I have received my first ever hickie. (Hm. Spell check doesn’t recognize “hickie”…that’s weird.) Yes, that’s right, a hickie. A big ole purple hickie.
On my left arm.
From the man of my life.
The little man of my life

This guy…
did this.
 
For whatever reason, Noah recently enjoys sucking on my arm instead of his paci. He will straight up spit out his paci and make a nosedive for my arm. It’s the darndest thing. And sometimes he gets carried away, as you can clearly see. 
Furthermore. Why in the HECK would anyone want one of these? It hurt like the dickens, during and after. This was about a week ago and the bruise is STILL there. Gah. The little booger got me good.
Reminds me of a story from middle school. I won’t use real names or go into great details in order to protect the innocent…err… not so innocent? 
Anyway. The gist of the tale goes like this: two girls + two boys + history fair project = hickies. (No, the project was not on the history of sucking-induced bruises, though that was obviously the learned outcome.) And NOT on me. But somehow, I still got into trouble for it. How, you ask? Apparently, I should have been a better friend and stopped the “necking” while it was going on, therein, there wouldn’t have been said hickie.
Umm. No.
Do you remember middle school? It’s a tough gig. You leave such things well enough alone and don’t ask questions. You instruct your friend not to put her hair up in the presence of her mom, sisters, or step-dad. It would go away in a few days and all would be good. Just keep your boyfriend’s mouth off your neck from now on and your good. Off scott-free. (Scott-free, what does that mean?)
Not how this story ended. Hickie McHickerson put her hair up in the kitchen with her family home. And it was alllllll down hill, way down hill, from there. 
Bless her heart.
Involved parties were separated and interrogated by parents, respectively. Friendships were threatened to be severed by parents. Breakups were made mandatory. Tears were cried in the neighborhood park. Plans were devised to minimize the event in question. And somehow, SOMEHOW, I ended up grounded for a month. 
Hickie McHickerson? She only had to forfeit her friendboy and her dignity. 
And her purty little neck.
And I’ve been footloose and hickie-free for 25 years. 
Until now.
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