It was a rainy Thursday morning and I was driving around Gaycrest in my Twink-Mobile running errands. It seemed that I kept hitting every single red light. At one light, which seemed to last longer than most, I happened to look up, and saw a big blue billboard that said,
“SHOW HIM YOU CARE THIS THANKSGIVING! TELL HIM YOU HAVE AN STD, ITS AS EASY AS SENDING AN E-CARD”
My first reaction was to laugh, but then I started to wonder, how many people actually use this service? It seemed to me that telling someone they have been potentially putting their health in danger, through an
e-card no less, was not particularly romantic. How many people would appreciate waking up to that in their in-box? Still, I supposed it is easier than doing it in person, and even better than not saying anything at all.
After a particularly engaging weekend, Leigh had gone for a check-up at what we affectionately referred to as the ‘Dirty Whore Clinic’. Promptly at 9am he showed up to his appointment and was dismayed to see that was not a single vinyl chair that did not already have someone’s ass comfortably embedded into it.
A rather large woman with half blonde/half black hair in braids and bright purple spangly nails sat behind the counter.
“CAN I HELP YOU?”
Rosa yelled as he made his way to the glass window, with the walk of not only someone who is already uncomfortable with his gigantic height, but added to that there were forty pairs of expectant eyes glued on him.
“I have and appointment”
“APPOINTMENT FOR WHAT?”
“STD testing” Leigh muttered uncomfortably.
“WHAT ARE YOU HERE FOR?!?”
“STD TESTING!!!!”
Rosa pushed some papers through the glass partition for him to fill out.
“DO YOU HAVE SYMPTOMS?”
Leigh looked at her incredulously. He leaned forward so that his rather long torso was twisted awkwardly through the window, his nose inches away from Rosa’s.
“Yes”
He whispered looking right at her. Rosita jumped back.
“SIR! YOU MUST KEEP BEHIND THE GLASS PARTITION! NOW SIR! STEP BACK NOW!”
Leigh jumped back and gathered the forms.
“DO YOU PRESENTLY HAVE SYMPTOMS???”
“YES!!!!” He yelled loudly.
“YES I HAVE SYMPTOMS!” He yelled again for the benefit of the cheap seats.
Slightly embarrassed by his outburst, he silently slunk away, navigating through the crowded waiting room, trying not to make eye contact with anyone, fully aware that they were all now leaning away from him, legs tucked firmly under their chairs. Unable to find an empty chair, he twisted awkwardly into the corner against the water cooler. Leigh wished Karl was burning in hell. Or at least burning when he peed, and felt really, really sorry for Paolo.
~
Karl was not only an ex-marine, but had the mentality of “Don’t ask don’t tell” when it came to drippy itches or itchy drips, as well as bumps, burning or rashes. When Karl had been ‘straight’, twenty some years ago, he had gotten HPV from a girl.
His doctor had given him some cream and advise.
“Not a big deal son. Most people get HPV at some point. No need to tell anyone – Then again don’t let anyone give you oral sex if you’re not wearing a condom. You’ll be fine.”
His dad had drunkenly slapped him on the back.
“Welcome to the club son! You’re not a man until you have given some slut the clap at least twice.” (Obviously not aware that the clap had nothing to do with HPV).
His boyfriend broke up with him, but for other reasons.
“I put that in my mouth?!? After you put it in a…. pussy? How dare you?!?!?”
Karl decided never again to talk about STD’s. Nothing a shot of penicillin couldn’t cure. Or so he told himself.
~
Paolo on the other hand was the complete opposite. He fully reported any abnormalities – even ingrown hairs – to any and all men that could have the potential of ending up in bed with him. This included strangers at bars. He refused to become intimate with anyone until a full health assessment had been made. This included checking the bottoms of feet and hands for tell-tale rashes, and close up genital inspections done with the clinical precision of a lab technician. And while this made him ‘responsible’, and ‘caring’ it also served to show him how unfair life was. Needless to say, Karl, and other men like him were getting a lot more action in bed than Paolo was.
~
And somewhere, someone was turning on their computer and logging into their email, unaware there was an unpleasant surprise waiting for which they would be forever grateful.
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