We visited my wife’s mother recently and spent our usual amount of time sitting outside and talking. They have some really nice shaded areas around the house, and we had a really nice day.

At one point, a solitary bug was, well, bugging me. I could see him very clearly fly a few feet away when I swatted at him before returning to hover around my leg again.

Normally, this would not bother me that much, but I really wanted to get rid of this little bugger. He was quick, however, and I never really got him. I did manage to squash one critter who landed on my wife’s leg.

In the end, I didn’t worry too much about it because I have a special superpower which comes in handy during the summer months. Bugs don’t bite me.

I have never really noticed this gift until the past few summers. I watch my wife head out for a brief session of gardening, and she returns complaining about multiple bug bites. At the same time, I can sit on the porch reading a book and drinking a beer without even noticing the pests around me.

She spends time as we get ready for bed applying lotions and creams to soothe the bites. I’m not trying to make fun of her. I just have no idea how all of this happens.

I cannot remember the last time I used bug spray. She may have put some on me in a sneak attack once or twice, but I certainly have no memory of the incident. Even though I can’t stand the idea of camping, I love knowing that I can go into nature and not end up as the main course for a bunch of insects.

Then something funny happened a few days after we visited my mother-in-law. As I drove around one night, I felt an itch on the tops of one of my feet. No big deal, I thought. These socks must have rubbed me the wrong way.

But the itch didn’t go away. Finally, I removed my sock and looked at the top of my foot in horror. A bug bite. Or maybe it wasn’t a bug bite because bugs don’t bite me, but I had a red mark on the top of my foot.

I put this out of my mind, eschewing any sort of medical intervention, until the next night. I had no problems with the top of my foot, but my left ankle started to bug me. I took a look in a mirror and saw not one, not two, but three red marks. I recoiled in horror.

I didn’t feel anything on that Sunday afternoon at my in-law’s house. I did shoot my mouth off a little about how I never had to worry about bug bites, but that surely could not have resulted in some karmic payback.

Luckily, whatever caused those problems went away pretty quickly. Because I have seen how long bug bites can linger on others, I can’t say a bug actually bit me. That would be impossible.