Not Being Absolutely Covered In Hickeys Stinks!

I came to a realization today and it hit me hard. Never again will I have hickeys covering my entire upper body. Granted I’ve only had like two hickeys in my life anyway but this still stinks.

One time, truth be known, I gave the hickey to myself because my boys in high school were doing like finger blasting and all kinds of bananas shit. “Smell my finger. Smell my finger!” No dude. Jesus. They were touching boobs and whathaveyou. Under the bra stuff, I mean. I wasn’t there yet because I was a Christian. Ugh. I was allowed to kiss, but I didn’t have a girlfriend so I hooked up the ole vacuum and went to town on my own neck. Shit looked good too. Authentic. None of the boo boo shit. People thought I was getting my neck sucked on for hours but, in reality, my vacuum was just making hilarious fart sounds on my neck. Kinda bad ass still.

The second time I got a hickey is a private matter for my own thoughts. Thank you for respecting my privacy about the time that it happened on accident by a stripper in a shitty town in Missouri shortly after I joined the Marine Corps. I didn’t want to tell you about paying 25 dollars roughly 8 times in order to have blue balls from a meth head and now I’m glad that I wont have to.

Anyway, I follow all of these Barstool accounts on Instagram and I’m just like, “lol glad I wont ever puke off the top of a boat again. Being drunk at sea sucks. My friend will never run me over with a golf cart. They are nice friends!” But then I saw this hickey one today and I got sad. Im not sad because I actually have sex a few times a week. I like that part. I’m just sad that I wont get to peacock into a room with the fellas and act like I don’t know what they are talking about when they start laughing and pointing.

Maybe all isn’t lost, though. Maybe I can get the Mrs to hook up the vacuum and a couple of full-bodied reds tonight. She can vacuum the ever loving dog shit outta my Adam’s apple. Wish me luck. Have a good night, yall.