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The Vindictive Ex-Girlfriend

My First STI Test

By Damien WoodPublished 5 years ago 9 min read
Photo by Sharon Garcia on Unsplash

When I started college back in 2008, I was very shy. I didn't know how to talk to women and just seemed to freeze up every time I tried. Well, as they say, practice makes perfect. After about a year and with the help of copious amounts of alcohol, I was practically a social butterfly. Some would even say that in my interactions with the opposite sex, I was a bit of a whore. I wasn't too worried about being labeled as such though. As a young man it's much easier to get away with sexual promiscuity than it is for a woman. Also, I was very much enjoying the newfound female attention I was getting.

It was sometime around the beginning of December in 2009. I had just broken up with a woman I had been dating for about three months or so. For the sake of privacy, I'll call her Stacy. Stacy was about 5'6", with long, chestnut-colored hair, blue eyes, and a petite figure. She was a very pretty girl with a winning personality. My relationship with her was the first semi-serious one I had since high school.

I honestly didn't have a very good reason for breaking up with her. I rationalized it by saying to myself that we had grown distant over the past couple of weeks. We weren't the inseparable pair we had been when we first started dating. It's true that it was getting close to the end-of-semester finals, so naturally we would both be busy preparing for them. However, I managed to convince myself that she might have been cheating on me, even though there was no evidence of this whatsoever. I just wasn't ready for a committed relationship and was looking for an excuse to end it.

A couple of weeks after breaking up with her, I was at the campus bookstore selling back my textbooks. As I was walking out, I saw her about fifty feet away, walking toward me from across the courtyard. I did my best to pretend not to notice her, but her body language made it clear that she had seen me and had something to say. As soon as she was close enough, she put her arm in front of me to stop me. I knew there was no getting away without causing an embarrassing scene, so I just looked into those beautiful blue eyes of her's and waited.

"Hey, I need to talk to you," she said, sounding worried.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Just come sit with me in the coffee shop for a few minutes so we can talk privately," she answered. "Trust me, you need to hear this." She had piqued my curiosity, so I followed her to the campus coffee shop. Once inside, we made our way to a corner booth, far away from the other students. We placed our orders and waited in silence for a few minutes. By the time the coffee came I had grown impatient.

"So what's this about?" I asked testily. "You aren't pregnant are you?"

"No, it's not that," she replied. "I'm not quite sure how to tell you this, but..."

"Well, you could just spit it out!" I snapped, rolling my eyes as I did so. She furrowed her brow and narrowed her eyes, looking directly into mine.

"Okay then," she said irritably. "I'll give it to you straight. I don't know if you know this, but I was cheating on you."

"I didn't know that, but I suspected it," I said. "That's why I broke up with you. Why are you just now telling me this when it doesn't even matter anymore?"

"Oh, but it does," she answered. "You see, the guy I was cheating on you with gave me chlamydia."

"Wait, wha... how... you mean..." I stammered.

"Yeah, you should probably get tested stud," she said with mock concern. She then stood up and walked out of the cafe, leaving me sitting there speechless.

The next day I went to the county health department to have myself tested. I went there because they offered free STI tests and I didn't have health insurance. It was about an hour-long wait before I was called back for an exam but I didn't mind, seeing as how the well-being of my genitals was on the line.

After about a ten minute wait in the exam room, the doctor walked in. She was a fairly attractive blonde in her mid-forties. At first I was uncomfortable talking about my sexual history with this woman. However, when I saw the wedding ring on her finger, I began to relax a little bit. I reassured myself by thinking that there was no way I would be going out on a date with this woman anyway, so being honest wouldn't be detrimental.

After a few general questions she asked if I was there as a precaution, or if there was a specific reason. I told her what my ex-girlfriend had told me and to run the full gamut of tests just to be safe. She smiled and reassuringly told me they would do everything they could to make sure I was clean. She then left to get what she needed for the tests.

When she came back, she drew some blood and had me pee in a cup. I've never liked needles but it was relatively painless. After I handed her the urine cup, she told me there was one more test to do. I watched as she unwrapped a plastic tube with what looked like a Q-tip with a smaller cotton swab at the end.

"So, what next? Is that like an oral swab or something?" I asked.

"Not exactly..." she replied.

To my knowledge, when they do STI testing today they use oral swabs, urine and blood samples. Back in 2009 however, to test for diseases such as gonorrhea and chlamydia, they had to do what is known as a urethral swab test. They stick what looks like a q-tip into your urethra, twist it around a little, and pull it out. This is just as unpleasant as it sounds.

"No! You can't be serious!" I said when she explained this to me. "There has to be another way!"

"I'm sorry, but there's not," she replied. "And I can't give you any medicine unless you get this test done either."

At this point I was experiencing a confusing mix of emotions. The thought of her jamming that thing in my urethra absolutely terrified me. On the other hand, the thought of this pretty woman fondling my genitals was highly arousing. I wanted to turn around and bolt out the door, but I also needed to know if I had this dreaded affliction. In the end reason won out.

"Okay," I said. "Let's get this over with." I pulled down my pants, tightly gripped the edge of the exam table, closed my eyes, and clenched my teeth. The pleasant sensation of her holding my member turned almost immediately into an excruciating, stabbing pain as she inserted the swab. To this day I have never felt anything quite like that pain. I would rather get kicked in the testicles than endure that experience again.

"Ayeeeee!" I screamed. Up until that point in my life, I never knew that I was capable of making such a loud, high-pitched, feminine noise. I grunted, groaned, and came close to tears as she twisted the swab around and then pulled it out. I wanted to cry so badly, but I managed to keep what little of my composure was left.

"Okay, all done," she said. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that, but it was necessary." She had a twinkle in her eyes as she looked up at me and didn't sound at all apologetic. "Your test results should be ready tomorrow. You can come back then for the verdict." I ambled out of the building without another word, the pain in my groin forcing me to walk slowly and bow-legged.

The next day I went back for my test results. I was pleasantly surprised when they came back negative, but they told me I would have to wait about a month before I got the results for the HIV test. Though I was happy with the results, I couldn't look a single person in the eye at the clinic. That experience had thoroughly humiliated me, and I never wanted to see Stacy again. My only consoling thought was that the worst of it was over. I couldn't have been more wrong.

A few weeks later I was sitting in the campus cafe reading up on my Sociology assignment. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed someone approach my table and sit down across from me. I looked up to see Stacy sitting there with a smug look on her face. My blood began to boil as I remembered what I had been through a few weeks previously.

"You!" I growled. "What the hell do you want?"

"I was just checking to see if you got tested," she said, smiling sweetly.

"Yeah, well, I did," I answered. "My results were negative, thank you very much. Now if you don't mind, would you please [email protected]# off?"

"Oh, I knew they would be," she said, still smiling.

"Wait, what do you mean?" I asked, narrowing my eyes as a cold chill passed over me. Her expression darkened as she also narrowed her eyes, her gaze locking with mine.

"I never did cheat on you asshole," she said. "I thought you might have been the one, but then you went and broke my heart. But I'm a smart girl, as you very well know. I decided I wasn't going to just mope around eating tubs of ice cream all day. So I came up with the idea to make you hurt as much physically as I did emotionally."

"You... wha.. you mean..." I stammered.

"Yep," she answered. Smiling once again, she said, "I knew what I was doing when I told you I had chlamydia. I knew how they tested for it. By the way, does your penis still hurt?"

"Why... you... Aghhhh!" I screamed. Everyone in the cafe turned around and looked at me in alarm. I didn't care though. "It hurt to pee for a whole week!" At that point I was so angry and flustered that I couldn't even curse her out properly.

"Hmph. Serves you right," she said. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a study date." She then got up and left me sitting there. I was fuming so bad that I wouldn't have been surprised if steam had been coming out of my ears. I could no longer concentrate on my studying, so I got up and left a few minutes later. That night I bought a fifth of vodka and drank myself into oblivion.

I'm no longer upset that this happened to me. Looking back on it I realize that I deserved it. She was a really nice girl and I broke her heart. It's too late now, but I realize that any man would be lucky to have such a beautiful, resourceful, and intelligent woman. I didn't deserve her then and probably still don't.

When I recall this incident now, I can't help but laugh. I wish I could see her again so I could congratulate her on such a cold-blooded act of revenge. Instead of wallowing in her sorrow like most people would, she rose up to the occasion and got even.


About the Creator

Damien Wood

I've come to find that writing is a potent form of catharsis for me.

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