So today is going well. Or at least better than the last few. Still sitting on pins and needles waiting for the wonder mr. Jonathan to get his results or whatever the fuck.
Till then I'm clinging to the hope that maybe I just didn't get it, don't have it, never did. I don't know how to get to the bottom of where it came from, because everyone is just so damn whory. I even feel whory, with my grand total of real sex partners at fucking 2! Just 2. That's the national fucking average for women (who are lying if they asked ANYONE else from my fucking town) so I actually feel just about normal, but everyone else is strange and dirty.
To start with, Jon's girlfriend left him for some Mexican guy she'd hooked up with. I have no way to tell for sure if they'd had sex or not, but let's say for shits and giggles they did. Maybe she got whatever this is from him and then gave it to Jon and then he gave it to both me and fucking Nicole.
Or maybe she didn't, and he got it from that Nicole chick. That means he probably gave it to me if I do have it, and that he's the jerk. But maybe not, because what if back in the day when I used to suspect it, JC *was* actually fucking that dog touching friend of his who was a dirty diseased asscheese? Or any skag he knew around here? How would I know? I only had sex with him one more time after all of that, but I mean really, how do I know he wasn't dirty. I just assumed that my loving boyfriend was only fucking me, and lacking that, was jerking off steadily and nothing else. I did ask him if he was faithful, but who can trust someone that much?
So maybe I gave it to Jon. Maybe I'm a dirty whore and I just never showed any signs. I guess that's possible. Some fucking huge number of women don't show symptoms of a large number of STDs. But the men do, so then wouldn't JC have shown symptoms I would have noticed? We weren't having sex anymore but he slept naked and walked around naked, and he never had an itchy pus disease. Maybe he kept it well hidden from me though. The only real solution is to ask him, no holds barred and see. I don't know what I'm really afraid of. So what if he thinks I'm a stupid dirty whore? So what if he was right and I just went and fucked Jon, like he said I would. What if he was missing me and after I talk to him about this he decides he doesn't miss me anymore. What if, what if, what if! I fucking hate myself and the what if.
Just the idea of speaking to him drops the bottom from my stomach. It doesn't really matter anyway. I am almost certain to have it now, seeing as Jon started showing signs 2 days after he fucked me. That means either I gave it to him, or he fucking HAD it when I fucked him. No matter what. So regardless if I used to be dirty, as of October 8th I just am.
Probably.
God love that stupid word and the futile human hope it can hold out.
(Yes, monday morning, October 3-fucking-1st I will have my ass in a seat at some fucking doctor having an STD test instead of being of at the Pasta House having brunch for my 5th anniversary. I don't want to harbor whatever in gods name I have, and I cling to the hope Jon will call and tell me he actuallly had a strange bacterial infection from a toilet seat that isn't contagious and that I can't possibly have, but I will still go and face the music if I have to. Until then it's cheesy horror flicks and Halloween candy.)
