First of all, of course I noticed. We always notice. In fact, that’s the first thing we look for after sleeping with strangers who may or may not have chlamydia because as much as you may pout and assert that you are clean and pure and STD-free, you really just want to get laid. And somewhere along the lines, man’s sexual gratification became more valuable than his truthfulness and more essential than the health of his partners.
Of course I noticed. You turned on the light and I saw that the condom was broken, and I saw you smiling and pleading cheaply-feigned ignorance of the HPV and HIV and gonorrhea and unborn children that could very well maybe be swimming in my uterus because your immediate pleasure on a hot August night is regarded with much higher necessity than my safety. I saw you shrug aside my supposition as mere crazy-girl rhetoric, but I knew the root of that pause you took when you insisted you couldn’t perform with a condom and I said, “Suck it up, buttercup, and find a way,” but you didn’t care about the rules I laid down because you’ve been told since you slapped your first girl in kindergarten that your manhood was a free pass.
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Second, why the hell was it so hard to get you to wear a condom in the first place? You didn’t know me. I could have had any number of diseases, I could have had teeth in my vagina, I could have lied about being on birth control. Is that a risk worth taking? I don’t understand the fascination with unprotected sex with strangers; why not just be content with getting laid? I gave you that, after all.
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Third, I can understand asking to split the cost of condoms when I so unreasonably demanded that we use them, but you made me pay for them myself, and even then you wouldn’t even walk into the corner store with me because you were too embarrassed to be seen purchasing contraception in public. What’s more embarrassing: a pack of Trojans, or a prescription to treat herpes? Then, after you came inside me without my knowledge or my consent, you gave me $20 to cover the cost of the morning after pill. Want to know the truth about the morning after pill? That shit is $50 plus the price of advil to treat your stomach after it turns your body inside out. You were a 24 year old law student with your own apartment; I was a 20 year old undergraduate up to my neck in debt.
I let you keep the condoms. Your next partner should save the money.
So thanks for degrading my sex. Thanks for the panic attack I had driving home on I-695 after the rain and the one I had in the bathroom when I got home. Thanks for the money I spent on the condoms, the morning after pill, the advil, the blood and urine tests. Thanks for the irregular period Plan B caused. Thanks for placing the worth of your sexual pleasure above that of my health.
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Most importantly, thanks for teaching me not to trust you, or any other strange man, when it comes to sex.