Weekend Onesie: Trouble In Shangri-La

Weekend Onesie: 

Trouble In Shangri-La

So, we had a bit of drama at the prairie last week.

I was working from home and I got a Grindr notification on my phone from one of my new regular buds at the prairie.

He's a cutie. Quite a bit younger than me, but GGG when it comes to just about everything I enjoy. I like his energy. We've messed around like five times, the last being a week ago from this call.

He's tested positive for gonorrhea and chlamydia! Both holes.

At the time, I'm actually on a conference call where my input is needed and my brain just melts down. I am so upset that I end the call early, promising to reschedule.

I get on Grindr and thank the dude repeatedly. Informing others? It's the responsible thing to do; part of being an ethical slut. So, no anger on my part,  just gratefulness. This is the kind of person you want to fool around with - one who is honest and does the right thing. 

I ask if he got tested for syphilis -  and he did; that test, fortunately, came back negative.

A flurry of phone calls later, I am on my way to my physician's office to get tested. It's been a full week since we played, and these STIs are able to be detected in one's system at the five-day mark.

The nurses all go to lunch at 11:30 am or something like that, so I have to be there before then, or they won't see me. I make like a bee to the clinic. When parking, I let someone else into the ramp before me (it's the right thing to do) and am rewarded with the perfect parking spot. I'm a full half hour early, so everything (relatively) is coming up roses. 

As I am making my way to the door, someone says..."You dropped something." I retrace my steps. Nothing. I look in my bag to see what might be missing and notice... my billfold isn't there.

Oh, shit.

So, I know they won't see me if I don't have a picture ID. Back to my car I go. I know exactly where my billfold is sitting; I'd been doing some personal financial stuff on my work laptop and that's where I'd left it. Cursing a blue streak, I race back home.

I don't know how I managed it, but I am checked-in with three minutes to spare. There are six tests in all... two swabs (anus and throat) and you pee in a cup.  Fairly certain the tests will come back positive, I suggest beginning treatment, but they want to wait for the test results. I go home, convinced this is all but a done deal and that I'll be picking up some antibiotics the next day at my local Walgreen's. 

Nope. 

Dodged that bullet. 

How? I have no idea. I start to reason with the nurse, but end up telling her, okay, I'll trust the science. When I tell her I'm typically not a lucky person, she laughs.

It's odd. 

That same day - the day I played with the young man who contacted me? I was under my oak tree, reading a book I cared not much for, but was totally gone - lost in it - when a dude comes from behind me and scares the living daylights out of me. I was so 'elsewhere' that I'm completely thrown. He's wanting to fool around and, of course, I'm not feeling it, so I turn him down. From that moment on? I am sad. 

Being there - this place I'd looked so forward to spending time at? I feel... odd. Out of place. Detached. Unhappy. I try getting back into my book... but that's not happening. I walk around the perimeter of the prairie to stretch my legs. Not helping. The dude circles back and hits on me again and, no still not feeling it. 

I keep thinking, I should leave. But that's not like me. I adore being there and typically stay until I absolutely have to be elsewhere. I start to pack up, when the young man appears. 

He's sweet, a bit doughy. Dark, thick hair and bright eyes. Great personality. A bit 'granola'. He spends all his time down by the lake and sometimes he's stoned. The only time he walks up to the prairie is when he isn't finding what he wants at the beach. Today's one of those days. 

We get to it, immediately. I'm ambivalent, but I know him, so I assume this will snap me out of whatever it is I'm experiencing. He likes kissing, which I appreciate and we flip back and forth - something I don't do normally, but he's that much fun. Also, he doesn't wear deodorant or cologne, so armpits are in play. 

We are discovered by this black dude that I like very much. He's a bit standoffish at times, but pleasant enough. He smiles and keeps walking. By the time he circles back, not having found anything of interest, the granola dude and I are done. Sex outdoors? If you're smart, you keep it brief - well, relatively brief. 

The young man puts himself together and returns to the lake. I do my usual clean up - I like to run a clean house - and by that, I mean hygiene is very important, especially after sex. Outdoors? I have my methods and they've proven very effective. 

After cleaning myself up? I decide to pack up and leave. 

I don't return for a week and a half - which is odd, considering how much I have been going and how much I have been looking forward to spending the summer there. But that feeling I had that day, the sadness, it lingers and I feel like I'm 'off' sex and 'off' the prairie. Then? The whole STI drama? Well, that only intensifies it. 

I return the day after the Fourth of July. It's a lovely day and I have it off, so to the prairie I go. I want to see what wildflowers are in bloom and pick up all the garbage people have left behind over the weekend. 

I see only eight people, and with two of them - both regulars at the prairie, but not people who interest me sexually - I share my STI scare in order to warn them, prefacing it with "I don't know how much you fool around here, at the prairie, but..." Of course I don't indicate who contacted me - that's not necessary. What is? That everybody go get tested. 

That day, I do get hit on, by four guys, but I'm not playing. This thing has to run its course. That's the reason I share my story with the two regulars - I know they, in turn, will tell others. It's the responsible thing to do. 

And that's why I'm sharing it with you... this story (not the STI!). If you're out there, having sex with people you don't know very well, - people who are also having sex with people they don't know very well - you must play responsibly. Get tested! On a regular basis.  I do. Every 3-6 months. 

Now, the sex shaming prudes among you may tut-tut and claim it would be wiser and less stressful to simply not have sex with people you don't know - but, honestly? That's not realistic. To refrain would be a waste of whatever sexual flame my candle has left. 

Fact is - people - gay men, who are vaccinated and HIV free or undetectable - are having sex once more. Now, I  was initially operating under the mistaken idea that due to the Covid pandemic, everybody would have kept their willies to themselves and, therefore, the likelihood of STIs would be minimal or non-existent. It was such a relief, during my Covid imposed celibacy, to not have to worry about catching something.

But we're on the other side of things now, and, yes... things are returning to 'normal' - and that includes the spread of STIs. (Apparently not everybody was self-isolating!)

Risking getting an STI? It's the price of admission to this particular thrill ride, I'm afraid. That's just the way it is; no judgment needed. It's a fact of life. The important thing is: those of us who play around? We must behave responsibly, ethically, and honestly for the sake of the health and well-being of our community. 

So, don't put your head in the sand and pretend it's not happening; that's only going to make matters worse. Fool around? Get tested. Regularly. There's no excuse not to. Planned Parenthood provides tests and every city has a free clinic set up for just this purpose. 

It's a matter of pride, too. Stay PROUD. Get tested!

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Trouble In Shangri-La - Stevie Nicks