As I’ve made perfectly clear across numerous posts, I historically don’t have any sort of notable success with the ladies. Now, for this particular story I’m going to take you back several years to a time in which I had a questionable level of success that turned into one of the most uncomfortable nights of my life. I’m sure it was a pretty uncomfortable situation for her too, but this is my blog so this is about me; if she wants to talk about how uncomfortable she felt she can make her own blog.
As I said, this all takes place several years ago. The story starts while I’m at college, sitting at a table in one of the public areas between classes. A girl that I had never seen before in my life walks up and asks if she can sit at the table with me because all the other seats are taken. I happily oblige and we strike up a small conversation. Surprisingly, I must have made a not-awful first impression because this ended becoming a regular meeting time and place for us for the next few weeks (Hooray, I'm sociable!). At this point in my life, I was still living at home and I’d have friends over every Friday night for a party. There’d be cards, drinking, music and all kinds of chicanery that realistically made me wonder why my dad never kicked me out of the house, but whatever. After several weeks of a budding friendship with this girl I invited her to one of my Friday night parties because I am all about helping people have fun and one of the best ways to have fun is to watch my friends and I make complete drunken fools of ourselves. She accepted the invite and came to the next party to delight in the kind of raucous tomfoolery one can expect of a handful of 21 year-old morons.
The night went well; in fact it was going much better than I had anticipated. This girl (against all logic) seemed to have some sort of infatuation with me, as she spent the entire night nearly glued to my side and on occasion hanging all over me. I was personally quite impressed with myself at having apparently fooled this girl into thinking that I wasn’t some sort of massive, unappealing spaz, but I kept my mouth shut and went with it. Eventually, there was some kissing and canoodling that occurred and the two of us kind of tuned out any other people in the room. The party dwindled down until it was just her and I. Naturally, at this point I'm still doing a fair bit of patting myself on the back for whatever the hell I did to get her interested. I was midway through one of my inner-voice "Atta boy!" moments when she pulled back from kissing me, looked me straight in the eye and said absolutely deadpan, “We can’t have sex. I have chlamydia.”
I’m sure there are several ways I could have reacted to this revelation. I’m also equally sure none of them involved me not being completely uncomfortable and wanting to run the hell away. Let’s get a few things straight here. First of all, I never assumed there was any sex to be had because I am not a presumptuous person and I also have absolutely no faith in myself to woo women and/or not screw up any given situation no matter how promising it looks. Secondly, I am totally grateful that she decided it important not to infect me with chlamydia. Thirdly, there are so many countless ways that she could have gotten out of that situation without outright saying, “By the way, I’ve got rotten-crotch. Thought you should know.” She could have said she wasn’t ready, it was that time of the month, she had eaten some bad Mexican and was worried about shitting herself, etc. Instead, what she chose to tell me was exactly how and who she had contracted chlamydia from, which is something that I neither needed nor cared to know. Seriously, holy shit, sometimes less is more. And come on, chlamydia is fucking curable; why are you just chilling out with that stuff?! Get some anti-biotics, stay home for a week while they work their magic and then go out and get your party on without having to worry about it burning when you pee. For fuck's sake.
Ultimately, my reaction was to tell her that I was “awfully *yawn* tired” so she should probably let herself out because I was going to bed. As soon as she was gone, I proceeded to disinfect everything in the house; and I do mean EVERYTHING. At a certain point (around 4:30 in the morning) I was even wiping down my computer mouse with a Clorox wipe because she had used my computer to play a song. Listen, I paid attention in health class so I know I wasn’t going to get chlamydia from her touching my computer mouse but sometimes it’s important to err on the side of neurotic caution.
"Shit, I was kissing her. Better scrub my lips with these things, too."
The next morning, I called my buddy Düdders and told him to meet me for lunch because we needed to have a manscussion (that’s a discussion between men). He immediately assumed I was going to tell him that I hooked up with that girl. When I told him what actually happened, his jaw dropped to about 3 inches from the floor at which point I told him that he needed to get his shit together because as speechless as he was at that moment, he was still hearing it second-hand and I actually had to react to it in the moment as it was happening; which was fucking awful. And I wish to reiterate that sentiment to anyone reading this: if you were in any way taken aback by the bombshell she dropped on me, I want you to imagine how much worse it was for me when it actually happened. Now shower me with pity (pity can take the form of money, just fyi).
I didn’t really talk to her much after that. She would occasionally message me wondering why I had become so distant and I made up some excuses so I didn’t have to outright tell her that I didn’t stop showering for 2 weeks after that night and that I was still thoroughly unimpressed with her telling of “The Dude And/Or Dudes That Gave Me Chlamydia.”
As for me, I still am and always have been completely free of any sexually transmitted diseases. Ladies?