I’m in the waiting room. Waiting to get my STD test results. The clinic door is open to Echo Park Avenue and someone is blasting Eminem at the stop light. Shut the fuck up, Eminem. Can’t you see I have AIDS?
I have AIDS and herpes and syphilis and HPV and gonorrhea and chlamydia and non gonococcal urethritis (unspecified) and hepatitis C and probably A, B, and D through J as well, and dick cancer and brain damaging spirochetes and crabs and whateverthefuck else, I must have it all. My appointment was for 3:30 but they flat out told me to come late, that’s when the doctor takes lunch. Why did I come at 3:30. I am a fucking idiot. I should have stayed home where there’s youtube videos to distract me and not just this blank document and my gnawing thoughts of all the dick eating infections I have. All the people I’ve killed, girls I fucked whose ovaries will get chewed into dust because of me. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, whateverthefuck your name is. The Chinese chick with the purple toenail polish. You didn’t deserve this.
Except I’m fine and this is just a pain in the ass. The two week waiting period, the paranoia, this is the only bad consequence to unprotected sex. The fear and not the thing you fear. What people really mean when they want you to put a condom on is, they want to avoid this experience. The waiting, the praying, the agitation. Drawing blood. Pissing in a cup. They used to put a wooden Q tip in your dick hole, I’m told, which if that were still the case I would just not find out whether I had that disease. But STD tests are a penance. They are modern day self-flagellation. And just like a wrathful God, STD’s are much feared but never show up.
But to feed my paranoia I was looking through my OKCupid messages, looking at faces that I only then remembered fucking. Used to be getting laid was an occasion. I used to keep track of my “notch co– CAN YOU TURN OFF YOUR FUCKING TEN SECOND LOOP OF GOD DAMN CELL PHONE MUSIC PLEASE, STRETCH PANTS AZTEC WOMAN WITH HER STUPID BABY
Oh, she’s playing Angry Birds or something. At the absolute maximum volume the device will allow. Because why not. Why use earbuds or play the game at a reasonable volume when you could blast your Android up to 11 in this room covered with ceramic tile. Play a loop of electronic music which seems to take on words–
You have AIDS AIDS AIDS,
You have AIDS AIDS AIDS,
AIDSY AIDSY AIDS
The mom’s kind of cute though. In a third world way. I imagine impregnating her in a palm hut somewhere while revolutionaries with helmets and AK’s are carted past in a diesel flatbed, on their way to incinerate her cousin. He was rumored to be sympathetic to the wrong acronym.
I’m reading a pamphlet in Spanish called Ser Padres. I am learning the symptoms for if my hijo has Apendicitis. Dolor fuerte si se presiona el abdomen. This will be useful to me some day. I will diagnose a small Central American boy with Apendicitis. The village will proclaim me a hero. The revolutionaries will fire their guns in the air in my honor. The squat Aztec woman will lie back awaiting my seed…
OK, time to go in.
Nothing. I have nothing. I would feel like I dodged a bullet but I knew the fucking gun was empty. All the fearmongering is puritanical bullshit. Don’t use condoms, kids.
I’m gonna be honest with you. I’m pissed that I don’t have an STD. It would have been great material. People want to torture themselves reading about STD’s. They must google that shit constantly. If I had caught something and written honestly about this thing that everyone obsesses over and fears, you know… think of the page views. I would have become fucking famous.
What does a guy have to do to catch a break around here.