How My STD Scare Became Awesome

All right, so the boy and I had a weirdo discussion a few days back, about how something is up with his cock and he's not sure what it is. Nothing painful, nothing scary, just, as he says, "nothing I've seen before." What it is, looks like a hickey. And I know what you're thinking, but none of this was my fault.

So we make an appointment to see the Student Care Center, separately, because our classes require funny things of our scheduling. And I go into the doctor, and I explain what's up, and that neither of us are in any pain, and that I have no symptoms, and I describe his symptoms (no, I did not use the word 'hickey,') and she gives me this look, and asks when the last time I was tested.

Ah . . . December. Right? Yeah. December.

She snaps shut her little doctor folder with this unholy smacking noise and actually laughs at me. "All right, you go away. He's coming in this afternoon? Let's not even bother, then. You go on with you, this is nothing."

I'm, I'm just . . . being . . . careful. Responsible? Something like that.

"That's very cute, dear, but really. Go on with you."

So I went on with me, and you know what? It was great.

In other news: I went to the gym and have been sticking it to the man, got an awesome review on my latest draft and still may not be getting honors. And I'm beginning the job hunt in the Bay, so we'll let that decide, okay, Tess? If I get some fantabulous job starting in June I don't want to hear any of your yap about my not coming home. 'Cause you know you want me.

Also . . . you're not screwing up, sweet girl, you've just never done this before. It's okay. You'll get ahold of it. All the faith, every bit, in you, always. As to the sex . . . I think you and I should have some talks about this. It's always been a thing for both of us, and we've approached it in different ways and we've never really talked about what we learned from fucking it up now and again. It would be good to get a handle on why, and what we're looking for, and also - something I've been noticing lately is that the presence of sexuality scares people. Not sex, sex is totally cool with everyone, but the actual smoky little connection and the power behind it is terrifying. To everyone. I can't figure out if that's a necessary thing or a societal weirdism, but it would be good to know. I'm spending a lot of time lately figuring out the moments that I disagree with a social anomaly, and what the best way is to approach it. Because simply to do differently never quite cuts it. You have to figure a way to get what you need without hurting anyone else, and that's always the rough spot.

One of the reasons I'm very glad Topher came along when he did. I'm about to come home to a lot of old relationships that I behaved badly in, and it's good to be grounded in the notion that I can have the sort of relationship I want, if I approach it rightly. I'm even glad to be leaving him, in a strange way. I can't quite get my hands around that one. But I am. And by the bye . . .

A horse named Troll is NOT allowed to physically abuse you, and use you for semen deposits! I refuse! Adamantly!

Taravitch . . . how go the finals? I would come run the Bay to Breakers with you if you wouldn't kill me with your awesomeness. And, you know, if I weren't coming out at the beginning of June. And I had money. But mostly if I had your killer thighs. And she conquers mountains . . . with a baby stroller . . . and we call her Tara-viiiiitch!!

Love.