That Time I Got Chlamydia


“Oh and your test came back positive for chlamydia, have a nice day!”. If I had a cartoon acting out my internal monologue like Lizzie McGuire, it would have exploded in that moment. I had just gotten off the phone with my gynecologist following my first ever pap smear (I know, gross, I’m sorry). I was laying on my couch at home over a break, and almost dropped my phone out of my hand.

My mother was sitting 2 feet away from me, and I somehow managed to remain externally calm, but a thousand questions were running through my head.

“How did this happen to me? Only dirty whores get chlamydia! I’m not a dirty whore! Well, not always! Oh my god, Mean Girls was right! Am I going to die now?”

After a good five minutes of extreme panicking, I focused on the task at hand: getting treated. I made my way to the Target pharmacy, where the semi-cute male pharmacist handed me my package with a half smile, like he didn’t know. But he knew, oh, he knew. I had that giant pill down the hatch and was very pleased with myself when I thought “oh shit… how did I get chlamydia in the first place?” Of course, the date party.

The date party two weeks earlier where I got extremely ratchet and let my date, let’s call him Ben, raw dog it afterwards. Shit. I had to tell Ben.

Keep in mind, me and Ben were not dating. Ben and I had been hooking up for a while, but were by no means exclusive. To put it bluntly, Ben is a man whore. I’m a lazy fuck, and since he was always so available, I only had sex with him all semester (I know, I know, I’m a disappointment to single women worldwide, sorry).

Being the strategic genius that I am, I worded this text so it sounded blameless but still serious. Started it out with the casual “Hey, so…” Smooth right? I was so nervous. I mean what was this going to do to my sex life? Was my vagina going to turn into the sexual equivalent of Chernobyl, no access for 100 years? Unacceptable.

Obviously once it was treated I could bang anyone I wanted, but Ben had that good D, and I was addicted. Fortunately, this was his response: “Oh wow, what a relief, I read that first sentence and thought you were pregnant.” Thanks, Ben, good looking out. Ben proceeded to live snapchat me his treatment process, with thoughtful captions like “On my way to the clinic!” and “Just had to get 2 shots in my ass.” What a gentleman.

Remember kids, wrap it before you tap it.

P.S. Still hittin’ up Ben’s D on the reg.

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PlattyBlonde is a senior who divides her time responsibly between cheap alcohol, bad boys, and worrying about her hair.

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