so picture it. i'm sitting in a clinic, somewhere in chicago, that is a) open in the timing that i need it to be b)accepts my insurance (which honestly, was not as paramount as one would think, as the accessibility was really the key issue) and c) provided little chance that i would run into someone i know whilst ingress or egress. Not only did i honestly not feel like speaking to that many people in the first place, i really didn't want to be explaining to a random college friend how i happened to be in their neighborhood.
and honestly, it happens with alarming regularity that i run into people in strange places, doing something strange which requires an explanation. i was not too keen on this being one of those times. for as much as i love living in a big city that tends to feel small, right then, in that moment, i needed it to feel as large as possible.
the place looks like every stereotype you see in movies, taupe-y walls, curling posters encouraging safe and positive sexual behavior and a certain emptiness and drabness one would expect.
i walked in and gave my name. as my name was coming out of my mouth i had an instant thought...was a supposed to give a fake name in these situations? i've obviously been privy to too many TBS and lifetime movies...I start to see myself as Tori Spelling in one of her greater roles "Mother, may i sleep with danger?".
the lady at the desk, who i'm sure was very nice, had an overall "Attila the Hun" vibe about her. Not that it truly mattered to me. Attila handed me a clipboard filled with forms and asked me to sit down and fill them out and bring them back when i was done. again, i think, should i give a fake name? i decided that since i wasn't the one who had actually done anything wrong, that i would have to own this moment...so i sat there with designer sunglasses perched on top of my curled hair and pulled a pen from my designer purse. (it's important to note here, that for some reason i felt like it was important to "dress up" for this voyage, as to give the feeling that this was out of character for me....i'm not sure why i was under the impression that chanel sunglasses or a tory burch bag would exude this, but it made sense in the moment. )
i filled out the forms in my very best sorority girl handwriting and handed it back to Attila. She did not even notice that my sunglasses were Chanel.
Ten or so very long and somewhat tense moments later, i hear my name. Somehow, ten minutes erased the fact that i had filled out the forms in my first name, so she said it about four times before i put two and two together. I thought again about how i should have given her a fake name...and then i thought...what fake name would i give? what personality would i like to assign to the person who is presently doing what i am doing? Answer? No one.
she ushers me back in to another generic taupe-y room. The curled posters here were more of the "you're worth it" variety. a girl in bell bottom bluejeans telling me that i'm worth protecting myself...not exactly the advice i needed...but she seemed very genuine in the venture.
Attila starts asking me questions and suddenly, although i have not been asked to switch into a gown and still am fully dressed, i feel naked and exposed. as though every answer she is going to write down and send directly to everyone i know with crib notes of how screwed up the whole situation is. I'm instantly in high school again and these notes could end up on my locker...
so i do what i do best, answer the questions indirectly and with wisecracks.
Attila: "have you engaged in any risky behavior recently?"
Me: "a few weeks ago i was driving entirely too fast on the Jersey Turnpike...but then there was traffic and i had to slow down and i was texting while driving."
Attila: "risky SEXUAL behavior..." i think she might have been slightly rolling her eyes...or else was amused by my attempts to lighten the mood.
but then i was sitting there thinking, "me? no...i had sex with my boyfriend. my live in boyfriend of many years. we had sex, normal, heterosexual, not particularly earth shattering sex." ME? I didn't do anything risky. save the speeding and the texting. there was nothing risky about my behavior.
have i been exposed to risky behavior? possibly.
I blurted this all out in such a rapid staccato that i'm not sure she even knew what i was saying, but then also, i'm not sure she even cared what my situation was.
Truly i want to believe all these 35+ communications with Craigslist personals and other websites are virtual only. That he only wants a someone virtually...but realistically, i have no idea if this is the case.
i also have no idea if there were other women...and for all of this, there is no way to find out, short of a lie detector test....
I think for own sanity, i need to believe that he was not physically with other people while we were together. But truth-telling is not precisely in his wheelhouse, so there will always be an asterisk there. Its something that i'll need to work through and deal with the fact that i will really never know the final answer.
and all the sudden, with very little advance knowledge, i was vomiting. the thought of the possibilities came with such a sudden tinge, such a flip in my stomach, that i had my head in a plastic trashcan. Staring at a pink piece of chewed gum, Attila was now holding my curled hair and my recently displaced Chanel sunglasses.
This scene repeated itself twice through the rest of the question and answer and testing period. Attila asked the questions, i gave a jackass answer...gave a real answer and alternately burst into tears or threw up. It's likely i was one of her most colorful patients that day.
we took enough swabs that i was starting to wonder if I was going to be a test case and enough vials of blood that i asked if she was missing from a Southern Plantation. For my trouble she gave me some oreos and juice. not a great match, but i was too emotionally spent to even notice.
As i was putting myself back together and trying to rectify the eye make up situation gone amuck on my face, Attila came back in. Apparently she had a few "instant tests" which were negative. She gave me the timeline in which i could expect answers and told me to follow up with my own doctor in "a month of so and frequently for the next year" to do another round of these tests. Check. I thanked her, which seemed an inadequate response.
Right as she was getting ready to leave the room and leave me to the project i was working on, which was to not look like a raccoon, she turned back and said "you know this happens to a lot of people. Nice people, normal people, people just like you. You're not the first, you won't be the last..." and somehow it felt comforting that somewhere out there, there was another girl who found out by accident that her boyfriends infidelities were far reaching and possibly dangerous.
immediately i wanted to meet this girl so that we could compare stories and feel more normal.
i gathered my things; my designer purse and my designer sunglasses. I walked out the door with them on, hiding both my face and my tears from whomever might have been in that waiting room. i attempted to thank Attila again, but by then she was with another lost soul, asking them what risky behaviors they were engaging in.
...i drove home in silence and proceeded watch my phone for a phone call of the results. That's a process that will drive you mad. Of course, the phone call came while i was in the air, so I arrived here in the Big Apple to find out that for the time being, I have "dodged a bullet."
I have to go back off and on for the next year and check things every few months, but I can go to my own doctor...which will be less of traumatic experience. or as little of a traumatic experience has getting a battery of STD tests can really be.
But I'll wear the Tom Fords and carry a Louis next time. The Chanel/Tory combo has been done.
i filled out the forms in my very best sorority girl handwriting and handed it back to Attila. She did not even notice that my sunglasses were Chanel.
Ten or so very long and somewhat tense moments later, i hear my name. Somehow, ten minutes erased the fact that i had filled out the forms in my first name, so she said it about four times before i put two and two together. I thought again about how i should have given her a fake name...and then i thought...what fake name would i give? what personality would i like to assign to the person who is presently doing what i am doing? Answer? No one.
she ushers me back in to another generic taupe-y room. The curled posters here were more of the "you're worth it" variety. a girl in bell bottom bluejeans telling me that i'm worth protecting myself...not exactly the advice i needed...but she seemed very genuine in the venture.
Attila starts asking me questions and suddenly, although i have not been asked to switch into a gown and still am fully dressed, i feel naked and exposed. as though every answer she is going to write down and send directly to everyone i know with crib notes of how screwed up the whole situation is. I'm instantly in high school again and these notes could end up on my locker...
so i do what i do best, answer the questions indirectly and with wisecracks.
Attila: "have you engaged in any risky behavior recently?"
Me: "a few weeks ago i was driving entirely too fast on the Jersey Turnpike...but then there was traffic and i had to slow down and i was texting while driving."
Attila: "risky SEXUAL behavior..." i think she might have been slightly rolling her eyes...or else was amused by my attempts to lighten the mood.
but then i was sitting there thinking, "me? no...i had sex with my boyfriend. my live in boyfriend of many years. we had sex, normal, heterosexual, not particularly earth shattering sex." ME? I didn't do anything risky. save the speeding and the texting. there was nothing risky about my behavior.
have i been exposed to risky behavior? possibly.
I blurted this all out in such a rapid staccato that i'm not sure she even knew what i was saying, but then also, i'm not sure she even cared what my situation was.
Truly i want to believe all these 35+ communications with Craigslist personals and other websites are virtual only. That he only wants a someone virtually...but realistically, i have no idea if this is the case.
i also have no idea if there were other women...and for all of this, there is no way to find out, short of a lie detector test....
I think for own sanity, i need to believe that he was not physically with other people while we were together. But truth-telling is not precisely in his wheelhouse, so there will always be an asterisk there. Its something that i'll need to work through and deal with the fact that i will really never know the final answer.
and all the sudden, with very little advance knowledge, i was vomiting. the thought of the possibilities came with such a sudden tinge, such a flip in my stomach, that i had my head in a plastic trashcan. Staring at a pink piece of chewed gum, Attila was now holding my curled hair and my recently displaced Chanel sunglasses.
This scene repeated itself twice through the rest of the question and answer and testing period. Attila asked the questions, i gave a jackass answer...gave a real answer and alternately burst into tears or threw up. It's likely i was one of her most colorful patients that day.
we took enough swabs that i was starting to wonder if I was going to be a test case and enough vials of blood that i asked if she was missing from a Southern Plantation. For my trouble she gave me some oreos and juice. not a great match, but i was too emotionally spent to even notice.
As i was putting myself back together and trying to rectify the eye make up situation gone amuck on my face, Attila came back in. Apparently she had a few "instant tests" which were negative. She gave me the timeline in which i could expect answers and told me to follow up with my own doctor in "a month of so and frequently for the next year" to do another round of these tests. Check. I thanked her, which seemed an inadequate response.
Right as she was getting ready to leave the room and leave me to the project i was working on, which was to not look like a raccoon, she turned back and said "you know this happens to a lot of people. Nice people, normal people, people just like you. You're not the first, you won't be the last..." and somehow it felt comforting that somewhere out there, there was another girl who found out by accident that her boyfriends infidelities were far reaching and possibly dangerous.
immediately i wanted to meet this girl so that we could compare stories and feel more normal.
i gathered my things; my designer purse and my designer sunglasses. I walked out the door with them on, hiding both my face and my tears from whomever might have been in that waiting room. i attempted to thank Attila again, but by then she was with another lost soul, asking them what risky behaviors they were engaging in.
...i drove home in silence and proceeded watch my phone for a phone call of the results. That's a process that will drive you mad. Of course, the phone call came while i was in the air, so I arrived here in the Big Apple to find out that for the time being, I have "dodged a bullet."
I have to go back off and on for the next year and check things every few months, but I can go to my own doctor...which will be less of traumatic experience. or as little of a traumatic experience has getting a battery of STD tests can really be.
But I'll wear the Tom Fords and carry a Louis next time. The Chanel/Tory combo has been done.
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