What Is It with Sexual Diseases?

Which one of us, in his position, would do any less? If I could be there on the scene, let's say, and I had a personal stake in the issue, or maybe even if I didn't, and had certain knowledge that something permanent and awful was about to happen ... well, I won't incriminate myself as to what I might do. But it'd probably be deadly, approaching a 99.9% certainty.

Look, why should this cad's momentary pleasure -- sick and twisted as it is -- take away this poor girl's health forever? That's quite a tradeoff! One I would definitely try to prevent, if I could. "Come on, honey, he ain't worth it. I've seen what he's got, and I've seen what it's got! It's crawling with it! And you don't want it!" Far from it, if you know what I mean.

I know sexually transmitted diseases are terrible. That I've heard all my life, since I was barely able to even fathom what was going on. And the key thing, that which makes them so bad, is the permanence factor. You  never hear of STDs that are anything but permanent. One you have them, that's it. You're 15 and get on, you're still dealing with it when you're 95. Eighty years of whatever: bleeding, itching, breaking out, terrible rashes, runny spots, etc. ... I don't want to get too graphic, not this early in the post.

The first one I ever heard of -- probably in 5th grade -- was venereal disease. (I should say, I'm not a doctor. I am not offering reliable medical information here. I certainly am not able to diagnose any disease. And I'm not going to try ... keep that nasty thing far away from me.) Venereal disease, aka VD, was related to me as something down there, that was caught by contact with someone with it. I still believe that is true. It was something soldiers and sailors came home with.

And the worst thing, once again, is the permanence. At that time, and I haven't heard anything different, it was incurable. You might have times of lesser pain and agony, but the same old pain and agony would be back soon enough. You would have trouble going to the bathroom. The problems simply multiplied upon themselves. It's not very funny to read about, I realize, nor is it any great pleasure of mine to write it.

Since those early days, I'm come to understand there are plenty of other STDs. And whether they're related to VD, that I can't say. I've done myself the favor of remaining wonderfully ignorant on the subject. All I know is I would avoid all contact with anyone until they were proven to be healthy. Among the other STDs I've heard of are chlamydia, gonorrhea, AIDs, and I think there's a handful of others, which I can't think of now. Yeast infections??

Once again ... we get back to the permanence of these sons of bitches. They can cure virtually everything else, from dandruff to cancer. (Seriously, even cancer can be put on the run, thanks to radiation, chemo, and occasionally a prayer from a well-paid televangelist.) You can cure (or outlast) measles, mumps, chicken pox, and even the shingles. You can endure and/or treat arthritis, pneumonia, halitosis, catarrh, rheumatism, piles, the dropsy, water on the knee, toe fungus, ankle pain, hemorrhoids, dog breath, Italian breath, rickets, polyunsaturated fats, fatty limpids, cuts on your elbow, chigger bites, poison ivy, toothache, hearing loss, blindness, olfactory hallucinations, game toes, quicksand, kryponite, bee stings, ingrown toenails, driver's ed, fish ich, ptomaine, the heartbreak of psoriasis, funny-bone slams, and loneliness. All that and more. But not STDs.

That's just too weird, and if you've got one, I'm sorry. The idea that this one thing besets us -- and all because we wanted to have a good time and possibly breed. It's only natural. But, no, we're simply stuck, forever stymied, forever frustrated, with no way out ... but to become monks and nuns and live out our days shut in, taking cold showers and bundling ourselves up in diapers with Super Glue adhesive. I'm at a loss. Mankind has been defeated, despite our best science.

Is there any way around it?

He Paid For Companionship

REALITY:

Clint married Maude back when Maude was a cool name. He did his best over the years, always faithful, and accepting what she offered, leading to child #1, #2, #3, and #4. The children all survived.

She had her good qualities, being completely in tune with his past. They had the same memories and pretty much the same interests. To all appearances, they were the perfect couple.

But his eye wandered, although thankfully it was just his eye, not any other body part. At one point he was tempted, arguing that sex was the same as shaking hands, only with different body parts.

Eventually, he and Maude, in their 80s, died, remarkably only three hours apart, showing their complete soul harmony. They died and the newspaper wrote it up like this: "Clint and Maude died together, basically a double-ring funeral."


ALT REALITY:

Right when it came time to marry Maude, he left her at the altar. He'd had a premonition of what was to come, life as a grind with just one woman.

How much more adventurous it'd be to pay for companionship. They're always up for it and seemingly more than willing. He wakes up, sees a receipt on the pillow, which goes into his book of memory.

Years of this -- a different woman every time, although once in a while he'd cycle around to the same one -- kept him pretty well satisfied. And his wallet lean as new, in certain respects.

Then came a time, in his mid-30s, when he noticed some of the well-known symptoms, what they whisper about venereal disease. Obviously, somewhere there was a clinker in the mix, which had made her way into his bed and trusting arms. Or could there have been two with a cross-pollination thing gone bad? Sex has its moments...

Clint died, and the newspaper noted that he had paid for companionship over the years, and now he had paid for it indeed, dying alone, leaving behind a number of unlived years (he was 55, so we're talking around 30 years).

The undertaker sent his brother the final receipt.