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| "Use a Condom or Masturbate" - Poster for a safe sex campaign in San Francisco. |
Now I’m sitting here on the couch and my ‘ex’ is kneeled down in front of me. No, he’s not blowing me to try and revive our flame; he’s holding a magnifying glass, wearing the eyeglasses he never wears, and scrutinizing my pubes. Plunging his nails under every infested hair pulling out each crab as I look away in disgust.
A glamorous sight indeed. Though in this moment of despair, he meant the world to me.
The little brown dots on the kleenex sheet next to me. They're starting to move around. They're live insects that were just there hanging on my pubes feeding on my blood. A whole bunch of them like a virus infection. They’ve even laid down eggs that are about to hatch. In French, ‘morpions’ reminds of nasty sex jokes while ‘la gale’ sounds like middle age diseases like ‘la peste’ or ‘la rage’. I feel like the dirtiest man on the face of the earth right now. I’m gonna puke.
To make things worse, I must have had them several days already, even though it's only today that the itching became so unbearable, enough for me to tell my ex I suspect something. So I must have contaminated that other hookup from two days ago. He will be cursing me next week.
If crabs are a common episode in many gay guys’ early trials and tribulations, and relatively manageable, they forced me to face the reality of random gay sex and sexually transmitted diseases and infections. Here was one for me with horrendous names to cope with like crabs lice or scabies, and that even the condom wouldn’t stop... one you can only prevent by being 'pickier'.
But what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger now doesn’t it? Well I’m glad I killed the little bastards that time around.
-Post, pic by GiB#2
