No One Gets Out Of Here Alive

No one goes to a health clinic in the hopes of meeting someone. You certainly don’t think about finding a new friend while you are in the STD line. You don’t stand for food stamps if you can afford to put something on your table and you don’t stand in the HIV express lane if you are behaving sexually. All right, let’s get this out of the way. Sex is cool and great, heck every thing that has ever lived has done it (or tried)… It is right up there with eating, a necessity. Should you do it only if you are married? Who knows such things? I do know that married men and women sleep around in numbers that would shock you. I know of one person who has stayed faithful for 30 years and he is the angriest man I know. That is just my experience.

I went to the clinic because I was asked to go. No, I didn’t get the dreaded phone call from the County Health Service representative saying that someone that was infected had turned in my name. That would have implied that I actually had had sex. And that would be real humor. Instead, I was actually trying to be responsible and before the next time I did engage, I would know that I was safe. Like a pitcher warming up in the 5th inning, I thought I was soon going to get in the game.

The problem was I came with the girl I was thinking of sleeping with. We were holding hands as we were waiting to be called. We had gotten there at 8 am, we were the first appointments. It is great to feel like a priority at an STD Clinic. Since anonymity is paramount and is even the law, I was given the secret code of # 1 and my new friend was # 2. We sat behind a really attractive woman, who was # 3.
My clinic date said “Wow, she has really pretty hair.” I was not looking or trying to notice anyone, I already felt like I was at the prom with my mother…but hey, she brought it to my attention, so I added “And Legs”. What does it say to the other clients when you get elbowed in the main waiting room? It looked like we had just been handed our results and it was entirely my fault.

“Number One, can you please follow me?’ Nothing fits my ego better than this label. I was led into a poorly lit room. I sat with a counselor and he asked me about my sex life.
“That is a little personal, don’t you think?” I asked him.
“I am only here to help” He deadpanned.
“Really...Could you give me some numbers of loose women?”
He said nothing. If girls knew how we men thought, they would never speak to us. Then he said, “You know, with express, you can find out your results in 30 minutes, but you are down for the full examination, which will take 2 weeks. “
“I haven’t had sex in 16 months, what is 2 weeks?” I lied, 2 weeks would seem like the same amount of time it would take Pluto to orbit the Sun. He finished my history and apparently came to the same conclusion as the initial intake, express service was not for me. He initialed that I was to give every possible sample, including a brain sample.
“Does the brain sample hurt?’ I asked.
“Normally, but it is pretty clear you haven’t been using yours, you’ll be fine”

I was first asked to sit in the ‘we will need you to urinate section’ all by myself. This is cool since most men have trouble urinating when others are around anyway.
“Number 1 ? Is Number 1 here ? I need Number 1's blood”, A small Vietnamese woman asked. I looked to my left and right. I was still the only one in the room.
“I am Number 1, but I thought I was supposed to go #1 before the blood letting occurred?
“You do number 1 second, first we take blood” she said. I just shook my head and followed her into a morgue like hallway. It was freezing.
‘Why is it so cold in here?” I asked.
“Keeps the germs down” she said.
“I guess that’s why no on gets sick in Canada” I chuckled and continued.
“Do you use needles or leeches to get the blood?” She gave that grinned shut up look. She needed to confirm who I was before she put my blood in a vial.
"Your name?”
“I am the One”
“Yes I know, but what is your real name?”
“Bernie, its Bernie Home. But who is number One?" I asked.
“You are” she smiled. I was finally being appreciated.
She swabbed my arm with alcohol, which takes 10 minutes to kill the germs but the needle was in within seconds.

I was then asked to go a different waiting room . I was again alone until the cute #3 with the pretty hair and legs came by. She waved like a cheerleader. I waved back less enthusiastically. I then was asked to go into another room with a dark skinned older woman.
“I am going to check you for everything” she said.
“Why, do I have that look on my face?” She just pointed to a chair.
“First I will check for moles, since we live in Florida and then I will check your scrotum.” I had never heard moles and scrotum used in the same sentence. My moles checked out and she asked me to drop my pants. I felt like a crack whore as my shorts wrapped around my ankles. She said I should check my testicles at least once a month for growths. “Honey, I have not left them alone since I was 12”. I didn’t care what I said at this point, I was trying to deflect my uncomfortableness with humor. She then pulled out a Q-tip as long as an elephant’s trunk.
“What is that for?” I winced.
“I have to check for chlamydia and gonorrhea by putting this inside your urethra.”
“Urethra? Didn’t they just play in the World Cup?”, I yelped. I knew she meant my penis but I have never considered it as having an orifice and yes, I took anatomy.
“I would rather you check my prostrate!”
“That I will check next but this will take just a second"
“A minute?” I cried. "Time just stopped for me!”
This is where the phrase, I wouldn't touch you with a 10 foot pole comes from. This q-tip was obviously left over from the Nazi’s. This was just unbelievable.
“All guys have this done, don’t worry” she added
“No they don’t!" I yelled. "I would have heard about this, that I am sure!”
In her next minute, I nearly blacked out and I called for my mother at least 3 times. I was never going to have sex again.
"Time for prostrate" She smiled.
Then I heard the plastic glove slap on. Then I heard another one snap on. I whipped around. She was grinning with both hands covered in gloves.

" Why two gloves?" I shrilled. " Are you going spelunking?"
"You very funny!" She said. I called for my mother one last time.

I was back in a third waiting room, fairly sure I had left some part of my manhood in that small torture cell. My clinic date joined me and asked “How is it going?’
“How is it going?” I said with the look of death. “I envy pin cushions right now. I am thinking that a 2 week stay in 1940's Dachau would be a relief..and those gorgeous breasts of yours…I wouldn’t touch them with a 10 foot pole! No offense!”
I got up to pay my bill and walk away. While I was in line waiting to pull out my wallet, number 3 danced behind me with a bubbly smile.
“Hey” she said.
“Hey? “ I asked.
“Do you want my number?” she smiled.

"That's okay" I said. "I think I already know your number."



Stay Tooned... Next, Bernie goes camping with a long time friend and closet homosexual...





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