It started out like any normal hookup. Jake came over we watched a movie, which cued the making out, which led to the sex, which ended as a sleepover. He was nice — not my usual type, but still cute — and when he left the next morning I chalked it up to a good time and put his name down in my rotation. I wish the story ended there but it doesn’t. Jake wanted to hang out again, this time in daylight hours which is an entirely foreign concept to the slutty “I’m going to make the most out of my last month of college” attitude I had developed. I agreed and what started as laying out by my apartment pool on a Saturday afternoon turned into an entire weekend together.
Try as I might to be one of the “cool girls” who “has no feelings,” that’s not me. I get attached too easily. Way, way too easily. If a boy so much as holds the door and smiles at me, I’m in love. After spending an entire weekend with Jake I was hooked. I ignored the fact that graduation was quickly approaching and continued whatever this thing was. The next week was my birthday, where Jake graciously and excitedly met my friends. The dinner was great and better yet, my friends absolutely loved him. Everything was amazing and all the while I was getting more and more attached. That night he held me, said I was beautiful, and presented me with the most amazing sex of my life. I could not get enough.
The big finale of this relationship came with my birthday bar celebration. Jake met even more of my friends and we all went out and lost our voices singing at a piano bar. Everything was perfect. He was perfect. Until he wasn’t. During our innocent morning pillow talk, things took a turn for the worse. Jake had neglected to tell me he had gone to the clinic to get tested for STDs. Instead of dropping an “I love you” or “let’s make this official,” he told me that he was concerned and was waiting for results. Instead of sitting in a post-sex bliss, I sat there worrying and wondering “what if.” Still, he hugged me and assured me that things were okay and we would talk later. He had a huge test to study for, after all, and I had a big paper to write for my economics class. With a hasty kiss, he threw on his shirt and left.
And right about then is when Jake went MIA. He ignored my texts, calls, and snaps. Monday night he dropped the bomb — he wanted to end things. His logic? “Well if we did long distance I know I’d cheat on you.” That is something you don’t say out loud. “I’m sorry I’m a shitty asshole person.” And that’s the thing I’m supposed to say out loud after you say the first thing out loud. After spending some time with my good friend, vodka, and falling asleep, I woke up the next morning in a daze, still trying to process the events of the night before.
Did I just get dumped by a guy who potentially has an STD?
Well, not exactly. Jake’s STD results came back negative, but he was still having some gross penile issues. It turned out, he had scabies. And now? I have scabies. And now I will get to spend the last few days of my senior year of college slathering scabies cream all over my body, including my favorite place, my vagina.
Moral of the story? Don’t get attached to anyone the last month of college because you’ll probably have unprotected sex and get an obscure, old-timey disease and have to explain it all your mom when she is greeted with a giant medical bill when she shows up to see you waddle across the stage..
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