Author’s Note: Please skip this post if you don’t like hearing about embarrassing, hilarious and slightly skanky experiences. Apologies in advance for the TMI.

I’ve been told that my posts these days are a bit depressing, so I was about to make you all smile by gushing about my latest date with HOTTT. Except right now I’m ducking my head in shame, lest someone at work should notice certain things that I have today that I most certain did not have yesterday.

I visited Evelyn so that I could check out the man candy next door and it turns out that it’s eight foreign exchange students from Ireland. Not four. We spent at least twenty minutes joking about this newest revelation. Double your fun…double your pleasure…can I have a matched set? Plus we had to coo over each others dates, Evelyn met this guy on Plenty Of Fish that sent her a pic of himself in a towel. Then she asked if that meant he only wanted to hook up with her. Ummmmm…I decline to make assumptions (but probably yes). Then I realized the time and ran to my house because HOTTT was coming over to watch a movie. It was one of those 1950’s horror movies that are so badly done it’s funny. They drank so many martinis that I was surprised they were able to survive the giant rats trying to eat them.

I don’t actually know how the movie ended, because HOTTT kissed me and the movie definitely wasn’t my priority at that point. Despite TweedleSweet’s continued lecture on “The Rules” or whatever, I think I broke a lot of them. No, I did not have sex with HOTTT, but only because I told him no up front and he honored my choice when I sprinted right into the point of no return. Good thing he was the voice of reason. At least in retrospect it’s a good thing, at the time I was all like “Seriously? Why the hell are you stopping? Stopping = bad.” Yea, I guess I’m the horny teenaged boy in this relationship. I mean, definitely not a relationship. This…thing. This amoebic, undefined, totally uncommitted thing that is sooooooooooo not a relationship.

How did he get me to that point, you ask? (And you totally wanted to ask, you just had too much class to say it out loud. Why you would ask me by speaking to your computer, I’m not sure, but that’s how you planned it). As a former boyfriend found out, you kiss the right spot on my neck and I literally melt into a little pool of Jell-O. The orange flavor, not red. Usually, I keep my head and stop guys from doing this, not because I don’t like it (that much is freaking clear) but because of my skin. See…I bruise. Easily.

I’m half mexican which means that when I wander out into the sun I tan splendidly but while working in the office I’m usually pretty pale with a hint of color. Something about my skin tone means that I’ve always shown bruises quickly and darker than others, including my brother RockStar. I’m like the Princess and the Pea. Sometimes I go to bed and wake up with three or four bruises. Since there’s nothing to kick in my bed (no wall, no loose items, no attractive men) I’m left wondering what the hell happened. Note: yes, I’ve been to a doctor. He says I’m fine, just delicate. Since I have the delicacy of an elephant in a china store this may have been the first time someone ever described me that way.

My first high school boyfriend considered it “necking” when he literally licked me from my collarbone to my cheekbone. Ewww. I have no idea why he thought that licking me like a dog would work. Suffice to say the first guy who actually gave me a hickey was Pretentious Author and he was damn good at it. Too bad I bruised so easily that I ended up with a hickey the size of my fist. After that I decided that some things should be avoided unless I wanted to have my mother panic on me. So I gave up the enjoyment so that I wouldn’t have to walk around looking like I was recently attacked.

Except last night. I completely lost my head and let HOTTT give me hickeys on both sides of my neck. After he finally left (amid a few protests from me and admiring glances at his tattoo) I headed to the bathroom to brush my teeth before bed. And I lost my shit. Along both sides of my neck were long bruises and apparently, dental imprints. I took a pic just for you guys so you can see exactly what I mean by “bruise easily”.

I immediately texted Evelyn asking for advice. She said to ice it then cover it with concealer tomorrow. Ice will not fix this and there isn’t enough make up in the world, so I sent her the pic.

Evelyn: Holy shit! What was he doing? Are those teeth marks?

I ignored the overreaction and asked if she owned a turtleneck that I could borrow. But she didn’t own one, because we live in SoCal, who the hell needs a turtleneck in the freaking desert? Next I contacted SlipNSlide, my brother’s girlfriend. If anyone could help, it would be her.

SlipNSlide: Take the end of a pen and twist that mutha fucker like crazy. It hurts though.

I’ve heard of that, it breaks up the blood clots allowing for more blood flow. Unfortunately it makes it worse before it gets better and I can’t walk into work looking like I was mugged. I sent her my pic. She immediately called and invited me over to her house, so I grabbed a light sweater and headed over at 1:30AM.

I barely made it up the stairs and RockStar was there, trying to look through my hair. I showed SlipNSlide both sides and admitted that the pic is actually of the better side. The right side is soooo much worse. After loaning me a high necked shirt (still no turtleneck in sight), she pulled out her theater makeup and started trying to “fix” my neck. She managed to make it less noticeable, but even heavy make up wasn’t able to cover it up fully. Once RockStar was sure I wasn’t trying on his girlfriend’s clothes, he kicked the door down to make fun of me.

“Geeze, what were you guys doing? It looks like he tried to strangle you. You’re not into that, are you? Never mind, that’s gross. Don’t tell me.”

“Stop it. No, he did not try to strangle me, I just bruise easily. I didn’t judge you over SlipNSlide!” The first time I met SlipNSlide I was home for the weekend from college, watching TV at my mom’s place and RockStar brought her over (he was living with mom still) to have casual sex with her. In his room. Twenty feet from me. She was still in high school (although over the age of consent). Do I judge him? A little, but never out loud.

So now I’m hiding out at work, refusing to eat lunch with anyone and desperately hoping that these things fade before my next date with Twitch. Eh, it was still worth it. On a happy note? I really like my new chaise lounge.