I hated him immediately. And that before the whole herpes thing…
He managed to go from zero to asshat in under 3 seconds. Making me hate him so quickly was actually quite an accomplishment since he was willing to help me carry a hot water heater (150 lbs) up my stairs. He had boasted about being able to bench press 500 lbs, so I seized the opportunity to avoid hiring someone.
From the moment I opened my jeep to reveal the water heater, he tried to tell me we shouldn’t move it because he didn’t think I would be strong enough. What an asshat.
I was indeed strong enough, but he proceeded to be patronizing for the whole journey from jeep to front door.
“Be careful, Sweetie,” and “you sure you’ve got it, Sweetie?” in his most condescending used-car-salesman voice.
I decided to wait to yell at him until we got the water heater inside.
Once we got inside and I yelled at him for being patronizing, he seemed shocked. I find it very hard to believe that this is the first time he had been told that people dislike being talked down to. What an asshat.
He muttered some douchebag form of apology and I offered him vodka out of the chicken teapot. He drank it, but complained that it wasn’t Grey Goose (it was Ketel One).
I also found it peculiar that he chose to focus on the brand of premium vodka, rather than the chicken it came out of. Or the porcelain teacup he was drinking it out of. Or the organic green juice mixer.
Anyway… I also found it odd that he kept trying to take my clothes off as I poured the drinks. I asked if he wanted to skip drinks, and he said no.
But he had pulled by pants down to my knees such that I was just standing in the middle of the kitchen holding the chicken teapot with just my bare ass out. My poor roommate. She deals with so much.
I told him that I would have to pull my pants up to walk to the bedroom, but that I would certainly take them off when appropriate.
Once we got to my bedroom, he pulled down his pants to expose his huge dick, which was already hard.
“Perfect!” I thought!
So I took my pants off and threw him down on my bed. I went to grab his dick for my compulsory visual inspection and quickly recoiled. I stared at the flat white blisters for a second trying to process what I was seeing. Of all the hookups I have ever had, I have never actually found anything in my inspection before (aside from an occasional ingrown hair or sloppy circumcision). My millions of STD google image searches flooded my mind. I’m sure I would have flashed back to health class if I had had it (I got the Catholic school version: “family life”).
“OMG he has herpes!” I thought.
Actually, it was probably the strain of HPV`that causes genital warts. There were two clusters of flat white blisters about half way down the shaft. It was like the exact picture out of your (not my) health class textbook (my textbook just had smiling white families).
Then began the most uncomfortable conversation of my life to date:
“Is there a problem?” he asked impatiently.
I though about my word choice carefully, as my first mental draft (“My problem is your disease outbreak”) wasn’t great.
“Yeah… I’m uncomfortable with these bumps here,” I said slowly as I pointed to the largest of them.
He grabbed his dick and looked at it carefully, twisting it to look at the sides of the shaft. He really examined it closely, pretending not to see the blisters on it.
“Oh Sweetie, that’s what foreskin looks like,” he replied… like an asshat.
I couldn’t decide if I would rather punch him in his insolent face or rashy dick. I resisted. Did he think I had never seen (hundreds of) uncut dicks before? If that’s what he is banking on, he should really go after much younger girls… like under 20.
“Why are you making this awkward?” he asked.
For the record, trying to hook up with someone while you have an outbreak is awkward.
“I am not comfortable with this,” I stated.
“Are you trying to say I have some sort of disease or something?”
Actually, his doctor should be the one to say that, but anyway…
“Do you want to see my test results??” he demanded.
“Yes please,” I replied, knowing he wouldn’t have them. BTW there is no CDC-approved test for HPV in males (there is an anal swab test however). Diagnosis is more like a doctor looking at your dick warts and recommending treatment.
“Well, I don’t have the results with me right now! But I’ve had those bumps since I was born. They are nothing!”
I tensed up a bit as I wondered whether or not this would go badly. And by that, I mean whether he would try to force himself on me and I would have to shank him. I decided probably not. I relaxed a little.
“Well if you aren’t comfortable, then we don’t have to do anything.”
Of course we weren’t going to do anything! You have a fucking wart outbreak! But I was glad that he came to that on his own (and that I didn’t have to stab him).
“Great!” I exclaimed, jumped out of the bed, and started putting my clothes back on without making eye contact.
“So we really aren’t going to do this??” he demanded.
“No. I am not comfortable.” I replied with conviction and lessening patience.
After finally standing up, he tried to convince me to fuck him a few more times in various (idiotic) ways, but I wasn’t having it. He tried to hug me in a way that his dick would touch me, and I awkwardly dodged it.
I walked him out, locked the deadbolt, and gave my hands several thorough washings.
Upon further contemplation, it’s kind of amazing (statistically speaking) that I haven’t encountered visible STI’s before now. But still, who shows up with that shit going on??
So remember kids, 1 in 6 Americans has genital herpes. Always do a hooker-style dick check and always make him wear a condom (that fits him properly).. because straight men will try to fuck everyone (I would know) unprotected and then be mad and indignant when they get bumps on their dicks and unwanted children (straight men are stupid). This hookup had both these things.
What an asshat.