“Oh, that?” I replied aridly. “That is not a hickey. I wanted to talk to you about this. In fact, I have a few of those and after doing some research, I realized that they’re actually bites.”
The exhorted expression on his face dwindled. My unfortunate vicissitudes have a way of straining my conversations, so I finished my thought.
“Don’t worry, we don’t have bedbugs. They’re actually cockroach bites. Since they can’t always find food in the kitchen, I guess they crawl on me in my sleep looking for something to eat and when I move, they bite me out of fear and draw blood.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I am.” Pausing for a moment, I thought to elevate our spirits. “But hey, that doesn’t mean I can’t find someone and get a real hickey, right?”
Wishful thinking? Maybe.
New York City, you strike again at the single man. Why must you be so caustically callous?
-Single Guy in NYC