He asked me why I was so vague, I fumbled some answer but deep down I’m thinking ‘because the barriers that I let down after 7 Red Stripes and 4 champagne cocktails have come smashing back into place, and they’ve brought re-enforcements, just in-case I thought I’d got away with it.’ You know the one…
You wake up and you’re vaguely aware of where you are (you paid for the cab), you recognise the boy with his back to you but why oh why is HE lying next to you? Your eyes adjust to the impending gloom, a heartfelt groan and a glance around the room confirm that, despite the rubbers on the floor, you’ve caught something, an STR.
It’s that feeling, that you’ve let yourself and more importantly, your body down. Beer goggles? Beer knickers.
STRs are not the ones you’ve fancied for ages, not the ones who ask you more than once if you’re sure, who use condoms, who care if you cum, play you their favourite tune and make you a cup of tea in the morning when they want you to stay. No, not them. It’s the one’s who sleep with their back to you, who, rather than use a condom, pull out at the last minute and dump their load on your side of the bed.
Who don’t talk about what happened the next day, rather make small talk and avoid eye contact as they hurry you out of their bed, house, area, address book, life. At the bus stop you know you’re to blame, you’re too old to claim he took advantage and apparently, you’re too young to know better.
Like STDs, STRs have symptoms, cures and side-effects, their names are easy to remember (they’re in your phone book), the side-effects are social and they are normally self-diagnosed, although occasionally it takes a qualified mate to spot the problems you failed to.
He’s old, he’s soft, he’s like a bag of warm sweets, you do it out of sympathy, you will definitely not have an orgasm, and the image of his gratitude laced cum-face will haunt you for at least five years. Prevention is better than cure; before you get naked ask yourself, would you introduce this guy to your ex? (see: He’s Not With Me, Issue 28).
It’s not easy to catch The Clap, but you’ll know when you have. He’s devilishly handsome, buys you drinks all night and stares deep into your eyes. You are the only girl in the room/club/world, he’s a capital Yes and you can’t wait to wrap yourself around him. The symptoms are easy to recover from because although you know he will NEVER call you, he’s probably gone home to his perfect ten girlfriend and he was so fit you still think you deserve a round of applause.
You wake up, and think ‘phew, glad I didn’t bring that massive chump home last night’ and then you roll over into the wet patch he left before he crept out of your house (taking a couple of DVD’s and your last spliff on the way).
Your sibling’s opportunistic mate, he’s lost his virginity, you’ve lost a bit of the respect your little sis had for you.
After a weekend at the champagne you end up in bed with that guy who fell into a meat pie on his way in (see: Steak, or Kidney? Issue 28). The quicker you leave the building, the less you will have to remember FOREVER.
Very contagious and often incurable. You tell everyone you know because it was too funny not to, and three months later you realise how absolutely horrendous it sounds and are mortified when someone uses it against you.
If you’ve caught an STR, there is little you can do past talking it through and waiting it out. It’s true what they say about laughter and time and healing, trust us on that.
There are precautions you can take to prevent exposure to infection, ‘don’t drink as much’, and ‘don’t shag around’ are 99% effective. If that sounds unrealistic The Pill can completely destroy your libido, rendering it almost ironic as a contraceptive. Hairy legs and bikini lines might help, but only if you’re very vain, or very hairy. If it’s past the point of no return (i.e. his place) see if he’s got a big skunk spliff you can smoke, if correctly administered, your heightened inhibitions will step up on your behalf, or the room will come to your rescue by spinning uncontrollably, causing you to puke in his lap.