Santa Claus Is Fake, but STD’S are Real

5 hours earlier I had just gotten off the plane from a 22 hour flight from Kuwait back to the USA. I had spent the last year celibate in the middle of the desert in a daily sausage fest. You guessed it; I was deployed in Operation Iraqi Freedom and was finally a free man.
A couple buddies and I decided to go out on the town to celebrate our new found freedom. We ended up in a dance club pounding back the drinks (drink of choice: Grey Goose and Cranberry). I had finally reached the liquid courage stage of my alcoholic binge and found myself hitting on the shot girl who seemed to be around whenever my cup was empty. She amazingly mirrored my affections and after a short conversation, I found myself engaged in an intense battle of tongue war right in the middle of the club.
She finally comes up for air and leaves my side to continue making her rounds. Leaving me intrigued.
At last call she grabs my hand and leads me to a stock closet where we continued our high school make out session. Finally, the bar cleared out and the doors were locked for the night.
This particular bar had 4 different floors of music. The first floor was country, the second was popular, the third was disco and the top floor was rap. She was responsible for cleaning up the top floor that evening.
We headed to the top floor running up the 4 sets of winding stairs like two kids in a candy store. We reach the top floor and the music is still going. She precedes then to give me a private showing, which I was much obliged. The showing was then followed by rated XXX material not suitable for all audiences.
After the bleeped out portion of this story I thanked her and showed myself out. The next morning I awoke to a situation in my boxers I did not appreciate. It seemed that the prior nights activities had consequences, which I did not consider.
I feared to urinate for it was already in such pain. I called a local doctors office and made it crystal clear this was an urgent matter which could not wait.
I arrive at the doctor’s office and was seen right away.
The doctor asks what the problem is and how he could help. I inform him of the situation and I believe that I have a STD. He then begins to pull out this long Q-tip looking tool and says he will need to insert this to test for STD’S, but first he would need to ” just take a look”.
I release my death grip from my pants and give him permission to begin the exam.
My anxiety has reached its capacity and my fear of the Q-tip insertion is making me sweat. I begin to run through questions in my head. What disease did I catch? Is it curable? Did she know? How bad is all this going to hurt?
During my internal breakdown the doctor has caught my eye. I see him reach for a pair of tweezers and I ask him what he is going to do. He reassures me and tells me he thinks he found something. He reaches down and I feel a slight pinch as he pulls out a thin piece of red string. It seems that a piece of string from my boxers had somehow gotten stuck and caused this incredible irritation and swelling.
I used to believe STD’s were right up there with Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny. I used to believe that they did not exist.
That day I learned firsthand that they do exist and not to take them so lightly. Take this story for what it’s worth, it is just an eye opener that all actions have consequences and some consequences can last a life time.