The Universe Is Trying To Give Me An STD

Me: Jesus wants me to have herpes.

Tracy: Jesus does NOT want you to have herpes.

Me: Then how come the last two people I’ve actually wanted to date tested positive for it, right after we met? And seriously, these are the LAST two men on Earth who should have anything. These guys were so straight and narrow, they were practically vacuum-sealed. The universe. Wants me. To get herpes.

Tracy: If the universe wanted you to have herpes, they wouldn’t have found out before you were exposed.

Me: I swear to you that both conversations were identical. For the rest of my life, if a man calls me, sounding panicked, I’m going to assume and say, “Oh, my, God, you have herpes”, and they’re going to say, “No, my mom just died,” and then I’m going to say, “Oops! Sorry about that! But, hey…are you sure about the herpes?”

Tracy: At least you were really nice and understanding about it. You could have told him to kiss off, and you didn’t. You tried to be supportive.

Me: But what’s the point? What is the message in all this? What lesson is the universe trying to teach me? Every time I like someone, this happens, and then they freak out, want to live in a cave, never want to be touched again, and it fucks everything up. I am the only person on Earth who would have MORE dating options with an STD.

Tracy: Maybe it’s not about you at all. Maybe the universe is putting you in their lives to be nice to them and make them feel better about it?

Me: No, I think it IS about me…and apparently the universe is trying to teach me to stop being so understanding, and to start being a much bigger bitch.

Tracy: Okay, maybe the universe does want you to have herpes.

Me: I TOLD YOU! And, this, for the record, is why I’m becoming a nun.

Tracy: Yeah, I don’t think that anything we just talked about goes along with that.

You get what you paid for…pregnant.

So there I am at the local 99-Cent Superstore, buying gift bags (because, judging from the $5 that Target sells them for, those paper fuckers are actually made of gold), when I glance up at the checkout, expecting to see some gum and mints, when I see these little gems.

Now, excusing the fact that, apparently, if you’re a cheap skate, all your impulse purchases will fall under the “gettin’ some” variety, I’d like to say that, should you purchase your condoms at the dollar store, even THEY know that you should just go ahead and spend the extra buck and grab a pregnancy test while you’re at it.

I think naming your cut-rate prophylactics “Fantasy” is probably appropriate, because you’re living in one if you think these suckers have any chance of working.  Maybe that’s why they’ve conveniently placed a box of Rinso, in case you want to make a last ditch effort to prevent the birth of a discount baby.

Now, I’ve carried and birthed three children, and I have always been HIGHLY skeptical about these shows (always on some TLC-like channel) that reportedly tell the stories of women who didn’t know they were pregnant until a fully grown human baby head emerged from their vagina, but somehow, if this ever DOES really happen, I’m guessing that those forty weeks of denial started with a failed dollar store pregnancy test.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to call my local health department. The mystery of increased STD rates in Arizona?  I’ve just solved it.