My friends were talking about that thing called hickey or “chikinini” and I remembered posting an entry about it after ending a 16-month “drought” and getting a hickey from it…well, lots of it, in fact. Hahahahaha! My golly, Jher’s gonna kill me for bringing this up coz he was not the one who ended my “drought.” (rolls in laughter then shivers in fright). For your reading pleasure, Bridget presents (and recommends? hahahahaha!): THE HICKEY THEORY…
hickey n. pl. – -eys. 1. Any device or contrivance; a gadget 2. A pimple or visible birthmark. 3. Slang. A reddish mark on the skin caused by kissing. 4. A pipe-bending apparatus. 5. A usually threaded electrical fitting to connect a fixture to an outlet box. [Origin Unknown] – The Grolier International Dictionary
Worry not, my loyal fans. I promise the range of the usual sexy, witty, vulgar, crass, and intellectual treatment of this subject.
What is it about a hickey that drives people crazy whether s/he is a provider or recipient of one (or many). I mean all types of “crazy”: crazy-afraid (as in “no, don’t leave me marks coz my GF/BF/Husband/Wife/Parents may see it), crazy-rapture (as in “Yes! Yes! Yes! Yeeees!”), or crazy-semi-unwilling (as in, “not on the neck, my mom/dad might see it”). At one point in time in our engaging in sexual congress with people, the hickey seems to be an integral part of our expression of sexuality (or “copulation”, or “fornication”, or “mind-blowing fcuking”, whatever term of reference suits your fancy). I feel like it is anthropological in nature—an expression of territorialism, conquest, power, and/or prestige. My best friend actually loves to sport his hickey because it is like a roving announcement that broadcasts to the entire world that he just got laid (a prestige hickey) and that his girlfriend has definitely delivered, as Shirley Bassey sultrily puts it, “the greatest performance of my life” (inadvertent territorial hickey). Another friend said that he loves to give one because it is like a stamp of his conquest, sort of a “been-here-did-you” carving (a conquest hickey). My gal pal who has the sex life of a jackrabbit said that she loves to give hickeys (especially when her partner pleads for her not to) because, as she puts it, why should girls be the only ones to fear about being discovered due to a hickey (a power hickey). For me, however, it is about all of the above. I just love the fact that I have power over a person, that I have the stamp “JUST GOT LAID” and I have “stamped” another person, and the lover of attention that I am, I love the fact that people would stare at my hickey and I will say to them like a true-blue biatch, “Yes, my dear. I fcuked someone last night.” And I love how they squirm in discomfort due to my vulgar honesty.
Hickey or no hickey, the point is we should have fun and enjoy answering the call of the flesh. I know I have. (smiles very naughtily) For me, it is a symbol of the end of a 16-month drought. And as I told my friend Dylan earlier, I asked for rain and I was given a fcuking tropical storm. And just like the people of the desert-like town Cupang in the movie, Himala, I chanted in frenzy at the taste of water from above.
Damn! The analogy just made me want to give someone a hickey. (a hickey compulsion?)