A friend texts me the other evening. “Look good tonight. I want you to meet my friend.”
What is she talking about? Don’t I always look good?
That concern aside, my friend (let’s call her A) introduces me to B that night, while at a live show on the LES. Apparently, both B and I are in need of getting laid… me, because my girlfriend and I broke up, and I need to get back in the saddle. B because… well… she’s new to town, and hasn’t gotten anything going yet.
Which means this is supposed to be a hookup of convenience, not of… I don’t know… raw chemical or physical attraction? And, to put it bluntly, neither of us is the other’s type.
Fine. We talk, there’s maybe a little bit of sympathetic experiences and some alcohol to grease the wheels and by the end of the show things are starting to look up. But then we’re standing outside and I ask B for a drag off of her cigarette. She gives it to me, saying, “well, I guess we both have herpes now.”
Really? What?
Later, when B finally leaves our little party to “get a drink,” A hits me and demands, “why didn’t you go with her??”
“Because she said she has herpes.”
“She was joking.”
How the fuck was I supposed to know that? See, when someone says, “I have herpes,” I hear “I have herpes,” not “take me home and fuck the shit out of me.”
Moral of the story? If you’re looking to get it on, don’t joke about STDs.
this is why there should be pocket-STD tests where you could have taken the used cigarette and ran it through the machine to verify if she had the herp or not.
nonsense. you should’ve smashed. there’s always valtrex.