I'm Rather Deflated

Despite reassurances from my ex-boyfriend who stated, "Sex workers are stringently tested for disease," I ran to my gyn. For those new to this blog, my ex-boyfriend disclosed late in the game that he's a former sex slave male bondage porn star. Insofar as his sexuality, it's whatever's up. Literally.

Which explains why I ran like a bat in hell to the gyn to get tested for sexually transmitted diseases. I was, in a perverse way, glad to tell this weird chapter of my life to the doctor. For I believe this is the most fucked up relationship I ever had. Well, fucked up in that the guy wasn't who I thought he was. And once the mask slipped, oh boy, it was looney tunes time.

Luckily, I'm mentally healthy and dropped him like a dime. The anger, though, took a while to abate. I don't miss him, for the man who I admired doesn't exist. However, I felt reviled and disgusted to the point that I can't even bring myself to revisit my earlier blog posts when I even liked the persona. It makes me sick to my stomach to look back. Even sicker to know that that dick has been in anything anytime anywhere.

"So why are you here, Ms. Stone?" asked my gyn. "You're up to date on your annual exams."

"I need to get tested. Unbeknownst to me, I slept with a guy who's a sex slave male bondage porn star who had sex with men. He insisted that sex workers are stringently tested for disease." I rolled my eyes.

She laughed. "He's right about that. But, yeah, you should get tested for everything."

"Tell me, I know that society at large accepts all sorts of deviancy and tries to say it's normal, but I believe sex is a good thing, a happy thing and not for debasement, humiliation and pain." I sighed. "I don't get this stuff because I don't need any external stimuli due to a highly creative mind and imagination."

She made several notations in her computer as I spewed on and on.

"You know, I'm liberal, but as liberal as I am, I find that BDSM's sick shit and don't understand why people accept it as the norm."

Finished typing her notes, she turned to me and said, "Yeah, well, I feel that way, but then," shrugged and left me alone with the nurse.

"Don't you think that's fucked up? Like a guy who's into this bondage shit?"

The nurse said while stabbing me with a needle in the vein, "You wouldn't believe the stuff I've heard over the years. Lots of wild things going on."

I blinked. "So, I guess my story's not unique?"

The nurse changed the blood-filled little bottle for another. "I'd love to tell you some crazy stories that you would NOT believe, but I can't due to the law. I worked too long and too hard to lose my license."

"Tease!" I said to her as she collected the blood samples.

I did feel deflated. I thought I had a truly different story only to find in this "Anything Goes," Caligula-centered culture, it's de rigueur.

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