The one upside to being very attractive to bugs is that David is duly impressed. If I am sporting an impressive crop of welts I point out the ugliest ones to him and he never fails to admire them. ("Oooh, yes, I bet that one itches.") David has many fine qualities, and his willingness to give my bug bites the credit they are due is among them.
The obvious downside to all these bites is that I can't think of anything other than how delicious it would feel to itch them until they bleed. We went to a little zoo while on vacation and saw a badger; I admired its feet and thought, "Wouldn't it feel great to itch my ankles with those claws?"
Here's a story to give you an idea of how much it itches. Do you know that story about how a girl was sunbathing and an ant crawled up her nose and she didn't know it and then a few days later her cheek started itching and she scratched it until it bled and scratched herself so much they had to put her in a straightjacket and then she worked a hand out of the straightjacket and scratched her cheek so badly that it tore off and inside her face were a bunch of ant eggs that were hatching? Yeah? Well, it kind of feels like that, only worse.
Also, unrelated, when I was a kid we told each other the story about how a girl had a big puffy hairdo and a spider crawled into her hair unbeknownst to her and laid a bunch of eggs and then the baby spiders ate into her head right down to her brain and she died. At this point that sounds a little appealing, as long as those baby spiders don't make you itch.