Discovering Dargatz #132 - Permanent Hickey

Only a guy with my luck could be embarrassed by a hickey. This common teenage expression of affection would've been appreciated in my adolescence. However, my hickey was received in a much different manner, and just my luck, it won't ever go away. It was my senior year of high school and I was playing third base for the Red Knights. An opposing player cracked a liner my direction that nailed the lip between the infield grass and the dirt and caromed right up into my collarbone, causing a hairline fracture. Just like that, my baseball career came to an end.  However, the remnants of that injury linger to this day. Just above my left collarbone, in the prime spot for a love bite, remains a permanent bruise. Skin bleaching is an option for the removal of this "hickey," though that would draw even more attention to the location of my supposed affection. Though it has been there since I was eighteen, I am regularly asked about it.  Even my first principal told me on her last day that "professionals cover things up."  I can only imagine what the parents of my students think.  Either I am unprofessional or really cool.