back to basics.
yes, back to the usual fornication chat.
yesterday i finally told every single person i had to tell that i had chlamydia. i guess i can be proud of that. i feel like i deserve a sticker at the very least—because it was a lot harder than voting.* i don’t feel heroic—i mean this is not psalm 26 kind of stuff. it’s really been a while since i was tested! much longer than i thought—i was just looking at some recent entries here and i realized how irresponsible (and immature) it was to keep putting these last disclosures off. i also went and got myself another dose of azithromycin in case i reinfected myself when i slept with Bunyan. what a super duper fun day i had. unexpectedly emotionally draining. but at least it’s all over now. je repars à zéro. i feel better…for the most part.
i feel like i could write yelp reviews of STD conversations at this point.
i told Tread-Lightly: ‘this has been just about my most pleasant chlamydia chat! five stars!’ i have to give that man credit—he was the only one who asked me if i was feeling all right about it, if anyone was making it hard on me, etc. that is he was the only one who asked me about my own emotions and experience. and in a caring way. which was of course half-consoling and half-maddening. and i can’t give him too much credit because he was also the only one (so far as i know) who’s had an STD screening himself since we last had sex—and it was all clear. so it’s not like my news inconvenienced him in any way.
a lot of guys are very anxious to tell you that they didn’t give it to you. because i’ve only been with one other girl in the past 800 years and we were completely monogamous etc. etc. or they want to (as Anderson said) ‘reconstruct the timeline.’ all so tedious and irrelevant. like they want to go all sherlock holmes on your ass. Anderson and Bunyan were both more or less like this. Anderson moreso—he was genuinely sort of freaked out, i think. i don’t know that he has any experience with or even basic knowledge about STDs. he’s damned respectable. (his house is the absolute nicest place i have ever woken up in. absolutely everybody else i know—i am trying to think of an exception here, and failing—their house, at least some part of it, is in some state of transition or chaos. but Anderson’s was all clean and serene. like your parents’ house. i could tell it got regular attention from a cleaning lady. and there was well-framed art on the walls. a fishtank. a wine rack with wine in it. a kitchen with one of those very classy things that hangs down from the ceiling that you hang your classy pots and pans on. an extremely comfortable well-made bed with scrupulous clean sheets. it was the house of a prosperous adult man. i could’ve stayed there forever.) speaking of scrupulous, i was afraid i was being needlessly overly scrupulous by telling him, because i honestly don’t remember how far things went the night i went home with him—but it was consoling to hear that he was ‘a little hazy on the details’ himself. ‘but i think things did go far enough that this matters. i really appreciate your honesty. etc.’ (he went on and on. incredibly wordy.) then later he said he was going to the doctor that very afternoon, he needed to have a check-up anyway on account of his high blood pressure! (Tread-Lightly apparently had his screening when he went to see a doctor about his high cholesterol! again: the difference between sowing your wild oats in your early twenties and your early thirties.) Anderson said he would let me know the results. (!!!) (i really don’t need to know.) i said of course i hoped everything was all right with him health-wise. and i said it was probably for the best that we didn’t really remember what we did, but it was sort of a shame to have the transgression without the memory. (in retrospect, i probably shouldn’t have said that. it might sound weirdly romantic.)
Bunyan: also fairly anxious to defend himself, but also anxious not to seem accusatory. i’ll give him three and-a-half to four stars. i have seen him since the night at the casino. (but it was chaste. we mostly watched CNN.) i guess we’ve been slowly developing a liking for each other. and this might have put a damper on things—i don’t really know. it doesn’t really matter. i’m tired.
do you know, part of me is skeptical that chlamydia is even a thing people need to worry about—honestly i think the whole ‘pelvic inflammatory disorder’ concept is so vague i’m not convinced it actually exists. like it might just’ve been invented to scare women and to shame them. and/or it might be a term applied to a whole bunch of unrelated conditions that gynecology doesn’t feel like figuring out and is happy to ascribe to promiscuity. but. in any case. you kind of have to believe in the CDC—it’s a modern orthodoxy. and i’ve finally done what i had to do.
* a drunk friend, who used to teach high school health class, who was deeply mourning the election results: ‘you can’t feel bad about yourself…at least somebody in america is trying to take care of other people in america.’