Life Cycle of a Love Bite

Staggering, I know, but I’m no expert on modern sexual practices - in fact, I’m not sure I ever was - but I do know a love bite when I see one. And, having given it some thought, and done my own rudimentary research (sneaking looks at young teens’ necks as I pass) I come to the conclusion that they’re a bit of a no-no these days.

How wrong can you be? Confidently, I messaged the family on the communal WhatsApp, asking whether love bites are currently in fashion. I should have known I wouldn’t get a sensible answer. The first to respond was my husband, with, ‘Yes, I get loads.’ I ignored that, deciding that (a) I’d never seen any on him and (b) good luck to anybody who ventures near enough to hoover his neck. Other replies were equally silly (I’m not naming names as they all now have responsible jobs). Eventually, my teacher son said he spots love bites on some of the teens in his classes (no chance to cover up in PE). His response is always to ask if they’ve been hit by low flying golf balls. He thinks they'll be amused. I don’t need to describe the looks they give him in response. My PC daughter backed up the theory that, in her experience, love bites are really only for young teen lovers.

I’m guessing it was the same in my day. If my memory serves me right, I think I only ever received one. I was about fourteen and it was a pretty traumatic experience. I’d just been enjoying a good old teenage snog in the back row of the cinema, when his lips abruptly pulled away from mine and latched onto my tender young neck. If I hadn’t been so shocked I’d have screamed and run out. As it was, I was rooted to the seat. However, the physical pain was nothing to the mental worry when I finally managed to extricate myself and slink off to the toilet to look in the mirror. I knew my new neck decoration wouldn’t go down too well with my - albeit pretty liberal - parents.

I ditched the boyfriend, and for the next few days, polo neck jumpers, huge collars, and chiffon scarves soon became very popular in our house. What I lost in fashion credibility, I gained in peace of mind. The bruising gradually changed from red to purple, to yellow and green. I cursed that boy. The angry mark was taking a long time to completely disappear, and the scarves were become claustrophobic.

I thought I’d got away with it till I was emerging from the shower one day, wrapped in a dressing gown, hair up in a towel, about to scoot across the landing to the safety of my bedroom. Dad was coming up the stairs, his eyes just about level with my neck. I recall his double-take as I threw myself into the bedroom and slammed shut the door. I sat on the bed, dreading the expected knock. I heard the toilet flush, then dad descend the stairs. I breathed a sigh of relief and pulled on a polo neck.

That evening, as I said my good nights, dad looked up from his paper. ‘You’d better check your bed,’ he said. Puzzled, I stared at him. ‘I think you might have bed bugs.’ Pointedly, he rubbed the side of his neck, and a grin spread across his face, ‘They can give nasty bites.’ I was horrified, and probably blushed a deeper shade of red than even the original love bite.
‘Night, love,’ he said, returning to his paper.
‘Night, dad,’ I managed, ‘Errr, I wouldn’t mention bed bugs to mum, she’ll only worry.’ xxx


Life Cycle of a Love Bite

It’s not on the curriculum
Life cycle of a love bite
I do my own study
inspecting my neck
at regular intervals
I’m hoping its life is short
and painless
Always fascinated
by form and colour
each night I squint
at its reflection
directing the spotlight
at its epicentre
as a scientist might look
through a microscope
at slides of mysterious things
To start, its shape is random
its colour, angry red
mirroring my mood
Slowly, shape and shades
morph and fade
Purple, green, orange, yellow
All colours that I love
but best displayed elsewhere
Day 6, the life cycle of a love bite
is coming to an end

One last lingering look
before the scarves are ditched

Thanks for reading.......Jill

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Love Bites - Blotting My Copy Book

 

I had done what my dad would refer to as ‘Blotted my copy book’. I’d been there before but this time I’d excelled myself in the ‘What has she done now?’ misdemeanours and no amount of wide-eyed fictional protesting could talk me out of this situation or lessen the impact.

Returning home after two weeks away in Europe with school friends, I was exhausted after a lengthy over-land journey but still on a high and buzzing with enthusiasm to share thoughts on where I’d been. I thought they, my family, would be pleased to see me. I was naïve. Worse, I’d been stupid. Caught up in a moment fuelled by Slivovitz and the sultry, open air discotheque and, yes, of course it was my own fault.

“I hope you weren’t getting up to what I was doing when I got love bites!”  There was a hint of a snigger from the barmaid. I’d just dragged my suitcase through the pub door and she could see me from the bar. She was only a year older than me, married to my dad’s cellar man and had a baby daughter. She was lovely. She’ll never know how much.

My story was more innocent than her story implied. Mine was no more than a dare in Opatija. Who can get the biggest, reddest love bite out of the four of us up for it. We had become friendly – and it was just friendly – with some lads from a posh boarding school. Everything  above board and respectable, apart from the awful love bites.

Following the passing of my mother and re-marriage of my father, our family dynamics had changed considerably and everything familiar and comfortable to me had gone. It is hard enough to be a teenage girl without complications of where you fit in, where you belong.

It wasn’t many minutes into my arrival before the proverbial hit the fan. My dad was speechless. Even he couldn’t stand my corner on this one. His wife, with a ‘How dare you do this to us’ headless chicken routine, throwing in to my dad, ‘I knew she’d do something, I told you.’

I don’t suppose it helped when I reassured them that the love bites will have gone long before I go back to school and meanwhile, I’ll dab them with Witch Hazel and hide them with makeup, better than I have done.

I didn’t fit in and I didn’t belong, but for the time being I had a good friend in the barmaid who was always there for me and wanted me to do well for myself, not be tied down like she thought she was. Life goes on and we’ve both done ok.

By the way, love bites are disgusting and I promise I haven't had any since!

I’ve chosen poems that are not love-bite related, but take me back to that summer and remind me of my fascination with the poets concerned.

Love’s Philosophy

The fountains mingle with the river
And the rivers with the ocean,
The winds of heaven mix forever
With a sweet emotion;
Nothing in the world is single,
All things by a law divine
In one spirit meet and mingle.
Why not I with thine? –

See the mountains kiss high heaven
And the waves clasp one another;
No sister-flower would be forgiven
If it disdained its brother;
And the sunlight clasps the earth
And the moonbeams kiss the sea:
What is all this sweet work worth
If thou kiss not me?

Percy Bysshe Shelley 1792 – 1822


She Walks In Beauty

She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes
Thus mellow’d to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impair’d the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o’er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!

George Gordon Byron, Lord Byron 1788 - 1824


Thanks for reading, Pam x

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