I don't know if you've heard of it, but there's this new thing kids are doing called "hooking up." To those of you who are already aquainted with this integral part of college life, it might seem shocking that there are still those out there who don't know about it. I only assume they don't, because the way people react to "love marks" (AKA hickeys, scratches, mace ink) makes them seem like they've never seen anyone openly sexually active before.
[picture:1703559|size=small]I walked out of my on-campus apartment this morning with a rather sizeable hickey on my neck, and all day received a barrage of asinine comments. The following is a guide to dealing with the moronic statements you're sure to hear if you find yourself in my position.

"Haha, nice hickey"
Well, I too hoped for something a little more symmetrical, but I guess this bullshit will have to do. Normally I expect a to-scale remake of the David on my neck, with his junk angled directly on my collarbone. Anymore mistakes like this and she's gone.

"Sommmebody had a good night"
Maybe I got into a fight with a vaccum cleaner, or have a hickey-producing disease, neither constitute having a "good night," asshole.

"Whoa, do you know you have a hickey?"
WHAT?? OH god, how embarrassing. You mean this giant, unavoidable suction wound is noticeable? Jeez, I just wish there were reflective surfaces near me so that I could see this instead of walking around so naively. Thank you, you samaritan.

"Ha ha, get hit by a golfball?"
Yup, right in the jugular. Because you know how often I go to the greens on Friday nights, I guess this was kind of expected. The scratch marks on my back? Umm my caddy gets really into it. I tipped well.