I get my STD test results tomorrow. I’m such an old hack at this that I feel no fear. Used to be, I’m sure you know the feeling– you go over and over in your head all the filthy holes you plumbed with your scabrous open cut laden dick, all the men these girls had been with that you’ve now been with too. They give you that demonstration the first week of college– they bring tons of people onstage to show that you’re fucking everyone who the person you’re fucking fucked and whoever those people fucked and etc. Then when you’re finally with a girl, if your dick goes in a millimeter past the condom ring you feel like you tripped and landed on the button that launches the nukes. Years go by and, tentatively at first, you begin rawdogging in the morning when you’ve been grinding each other naked all night. And you are stunned. You learn that what you were doing with condoms isn’t fucking at all, more like a puppet show about fucking. Later you get to the point where you’re rawdogging everyone all the time. The type of girl you pick up in an afterhours party at a freeway underpass. You would rawdog hookers if they’d let you. You even ask them. You just stop giving a shit.
Well maybe now is when it gets me. Now that I’m complacent. God loves irony; maybe now that I’m not suspecting it I’ll have syphilis and have to make a bunch of calls. Even that doesn’t scare me. Hey, I have syphilis, I will text. Simple declarative sentence. Like Hemingway would have done. Hey, I have HIV. We have HIV. Now we have to subscribe to stupid magazines with names like “POZ,” smiling people on the cover kayaking and shit, read editorials encouraging us to keep up hope. We have to become ambassadors, communicate to others that it’s not just a gay disease. Except I won’t have it because it is just a gay disease.
Maybe I’ll have one of the sleeper ones. Hep C or something. That will suck, because I will have to explain it. Hep C? Yeah, it’s, uh… it’s a new one. Pam Anderson has it. What a shitty celebrity to share a disease with. Hep C would be like graduating from a second tier college in Missouri somewhere; every time it comes up you have to spend five minutes explaining what it is. Yeah, they have a really good hotel management school. Give me HIV every time. The Harvard of STD’s.
Hep C? What’s that? It’s a virus that slowly eats away at your liver until you turn yellow and die. How do you get it? From fucking. Or from needles. I probably got it from fucking someone who fucked someone who used needles or fucked a gay person. What if the person you fucked just got it from needles? No, it doesn’t go that way. Degenerate girls only fuck guys more degenerate than themselves. A chick who smokes black tar fucks a guy who bangs a quarter ounce a day, not the other way around. Just like a girl painter dates a better, better known painter, just like a woman professor dates a more famous professor, a girl junkie only dates a bigger junkie. They date someone who can lead them further into whatever they are. They don’t have the patience for it to be otherwise.
Now I am getting all worked up over this; thinking that I have hepatitis C. When it is impossible, as a dude, to get diseases form heterosexual sex. Impossible. Or, it’s like your dick is the presidential limo. Someone could get in there but it’s gonna take more than just firing a shoulder mounted rocket at it. You need Tom Clancy level shit. You could get a disease as a straight dude but you’d have to be Wilt Chamberlain, or in a band. You’d have to basically be trying.
Anyway. Who cares now. I’m done fucking. Or rather, I’m done drinking to excess for a while which means I’m done fucking. Because no man ever got laid sober. I’ll take my lethal suppurating cock and sit home and crochet.