So, today I went in for my six month std/hiv panel. I am pretty regular about this, but I always feel a rushing of my pulse and other symptoms of severe anxiety when I go for the tests.
Since I don't want my doctor in my business (much less the judgmental attitude) I go to a public clinic. Frankly I have more confidence in the std clinic as they are dealing with every conceivable itieration of infection, and they are more tolerant/open minded.
While I am tame used to the typical clientele (and, some are quite exotic, almost like gazelles or peacocks: one with pierced cheeks, as well as lips, with Bozo the clown red hair and orange sneakers, was doing his utmost to be noticed, while feigning being put out that anyone would be checking him out. Another broad shouldered skinny dude, with gold high tops, had his jeans so low that they not only were showing off the happy trail but the pubes proper/underneath his massive Rolling Stones tongue belt buckle.) Most others give ferret like glances to each other, as we all hope we won't see anyone who we know outside this situation. It's outing yourself in so many ways. The staff enjoy dealing with me but are clearly puzzled by this showered, carefully groomed guy in a jacket and tie, who brings a book to read, and who responds with multisyllabic words and polite conversaton, liberally sprinkled with please and thank you responses at the customary times as in civil conversation.
However, despite my being seemingly milk toast here, I tone it down when I fill out the on-line survey. I remembered a recent blog entry by Rawtop where he indicated some verbal ping pong with a clinician about his having had ~30 recent new partners. Wanting to avoid such superfluous discussion I indicated I'd had three partners in the last six months. Still, indicating that I "sometimes wear condoms" caused the computer program to freak out and I got a multitude of messages advising me I needed to be tested every three months and asking if I wanted regular mail, email, or text messages (none thank you...) I was bracing myself for some new, Taliban like cross examination. However, it was pretty mellow.
The clinicians I dealt with today were mellow and cool; they were also both guys. I prefer dealing with guys (the second one was actually pretty hot, and I was sneaking glances at his junk: I know, sick, as I was there being tested.) No lectures, no mock horror, no unsolicited or unwanted advice. (The women tend to lay on the "you know we worry about men not wearing condoms and really encourage you to do so." "Do you have someone to talk with if the results aren't favorable? How do you expect to respond if you get a positive result? Do you inquire about your partners' status? Do you advise them of yours?) Actually the two guys today both noted that I only top and were relaxed about the likelihood of bad news despite my condomless frolics (had I been truly upfront, however, the tone probably would have changed). Frankly I think they were relieved to deal with someone so (seemingly) tame.
Lately I have been peeing a tremendous amount (possibly due to drinking copious amounts of water, and not drinking any alcohol the last six weeks) but after reading a sobering article in the New Yorker on the new strain of resistent gonorrea I decided I didn't want to get the results a week from now when I am back home and then to find another clinic to get some antibiotics. So, I told another white lie and said a partner had tested positive for chlamydia. The physician's assistant offered to check my cock out when I said I hadn't had any discharges, but advised me he was going to treat me anyway, so I decided to pass (no thrill in having a married physician's assistant check out my cock with elastic gloved hands.) I found four azithromycin pills in my hand and was handed a cup of water. It's been a year since I was on antibiotics, so I figured if there was nothing to worry about it might kill some more benign, but possibly vexing, unwelcome foreign travelers in my system.
Since I like immediate gratification to assuage any uncertainty I asked for a rapid test. Different worker (different title, different payroll) administered that. They tell you that it requires 20 minutes. However, after swishing my blood and 10 minutes of small talk he pointed out the meter and said "see that? It says negative/its going to stay that way. If it was positive it would have indicated that after three to five minutes. No point in keeping you here." However, wrapping up the paperwork, and collecting my stuff, it was another five minutes. He gave it a cursory second glance and said "we're done, you're free to go."
An interesting afternoon: I went to check out and the cashier said today it was just voluntary: normally it's at least $100. So, I gave him $40/it would have been unconscionable to give any less.
Actually I am pretty relieved; I have had some nagging uncertainty floating in my head from the guy I fucked in one of the Frightening Friday blog entries; his squirrelness had me mistrusting anything he said and he was too eager to get fucked bare and bred. And, you never know whether those who say they are neg actually are, or when the hell they last got tested (well, I ask, but while folks tend to be honest 85% of the time there are some who lie or conveniently represent things...after all, a hard dick has no conscience.)
Of course, now I am as horny as hell and want some ass. Thought I had something lined up, but he flaked (he's too tired, has to get up early tomorrow. Boo hoo! Then why the fuck did you lean on me to keep tonight open for you dickhead?) However, I, too need to hit the sack soon, and Monday nights do then to be when horny boys keep their asses home. Damn the luck/but entirely understandable. Frankly, no one could lure me out on a Monday night unless I was on vacation. I am only interested because I am in a hotel. (Btw, in all honesty I am probably going to give tonight's appointment another shot tomorrow, not that I am going to hold out for him exclusively.)