The test

[NSFW warnings. Again. I’m such a purveyor of smut.]

This morning at 9:00, I was sitting in the waiting room of a sexual health clinic, with my phone out genuinely wondering if it would be “too much” to check into an STI check-up on Facebook. In the end, I decided not to, because I’m just too classy. 

It had taken me a month from French Train Platform boy telling me that he had gonorrhoea to me actually getting myself checked, but here I was, in the swankiest waiting room I’d ever been in, waiting for my first ever STI test, feeling at the age of 36 and a half like I was finally an actual grown-up gay. 

I was fascinated by everyone around me. So many posh-looking men and women in suits on their way to their important London jobs getting themselves checked and treated for STIs. This wasn’t the Den of Iniquity I expected. 

I was called into the doctor’s office before long. She was a large, motherly woman and I couldn’t imagine talking to her about my sex life. But I did. I told her what I’d done to whom and what who had done to me. She nodded, and asked questions I wouldn’t usually expect to talk about at 9:00 am. 

Doctor: Would you like to be tested for rectal gonorrhoea?

Connor: Should I be?

Doctor: It depends. When did you last get rimmed?

She took my blood and did a throat swab, telling me that I might cough or gag a little. After what I’d told her, she should have known that it would take more than a little throat swab to make me gag. 

She told me that she’d treat me for gonorrhoea regardless of my own results as I’d been intimate with someone who had a confirmed diagnosis. It would be an injection and a few tablets. Fine. She also offered me a HPV vaccine. Apparently, girls and young women are being vaccinated against HPV regularly, and this is lowering the incidence of genital warts in the general population, but because I don’t have sex with women “I’m missing out on the benefit of the vaccination”. That’s an advantage of heterosexuality I hadn’t heard before. I said yes to the vaccine. 

The doctor sent me to the bathroom to produce a urine sample and to do my rectal swab. She showed me how to do the rectal swab, saying I didn’t have to push it in too far. I made a “just the tip” joke before I could stop myself. 

As I passed the receptionist on the way to the toilet, I thought to myself that he knew that I was on my way to stick a cotton bud up my bottom. 
A nurse gave me my injections, one on the arm and one in the bottom. He nattered away, neither of us mentioning the gonorrhoea he was injecting me for. 

I was gone by 9:45. The doctor told me I wasn’t allowed to have sex, of any type, for seven days. Sigh. 

I got a text from them this afternoon. I’m gonorrhoea and chlamydia free! 

I’m so pure. 

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