Friday, October 19, 2007

Vaginosis Returns

On Saturday night I went a date in Bethesda with a girl I had met the previous evening in Adams Morgan. She was cute, thin, and from New York. After a few drinks, alright a lot of drinks, I suggested we go to her place so I could use her bathroom. Why I couldn't use the bathroom at the bar I do not know, but being the hopeless romantic that I am, I went with the bathroom reference in order to try to get into her pad.

Regardless of its obvious hollowness, my scheme worked and after a few awkward moments on the couch discussing topics such as the accent colors in her living room and how she exclusively dated football players throughout high school, we were making out. Thinking to myself, what would the star quarterback do? I pushed her onto the couch and jumped on top of her. Yes, sadly, we were both thinking of the high school quarterback.

It was after approximately five minutes of kissing that I first noticed it. A lightly wafting aroma that started stinging my eyes, burning my nostrils, and jogging my memory. With our increased intimacy the odor grew more pervasive and it quickly dawned on me that the pungent foe I thought I had vanquished for good back in 2000 had in fact survived. Vaginosis! My arch nemesis had returned to torment me seven years later.

For the unitiated, vaginosis is the insidious medical condition where a woman features a strong, unpleasant odor emanating from her pubic area. Scholars have theorized that this smell results from an abundant collection of dead sperm, an overall lack of hygiene, or a girl sub-leasing space in her nether regions to a sewer treatment facility in order to make extra cash. Regardless of the reasons, the result is a hellacious, pungent stench that is capable of rendering armies of men impotent. It has also been speculated that this year's dramatic reduction in the number of pollinating honey bees can be directly tied to an increase in the number of women suffering from this condition. The most awful and sadistic part of vaginosis is that the sufferer is almost always immune to the effects of her own powers.

In spite of my past experience, I found myself on the couch, bewildered and scared. While most women with whom I've been intimate guard access to their pants with savage intensity, my date on this night had no problem trying to remove them herself. In this ironic duel taking place at the top of her jeans she would unbutton a button and I would snap it back into place. She would pull down her zipper and I would zip it back up. Round and round we went in this twisted dance, as somehow my reticence only added to her aroused state, until I relented, and the jeans came off.

I wanted to cry. Instinctively I recoiled and looked for ventilation. Why is it that these girls always live in apartments with so few windows? With a sly smile on her face, she suggested we move to the bedroom. With a look on my face that implied this suggestion was somewhere in between drowning and a colonoscopy on my pleasure scale, I thought of suggesting we should move to a car wash.

I would like to tell you my friends that I am a stronger person in 2007 than I was as an immature college student in 2000. That I stood up, addressed her with an honest explanation for rejecting her indecent proposal, gathered my possessions, and walked out the door never to return. I could tell you this, but I think we all know that I'd be lying. Yes, I did it, and yes it stank, and yes it lingers to this very day. While some of you will judge me and my actions as being less than those of an honorable man, I believe that going in there with her makes me more of a man than some will ever be. I think we've got another date scheduled for Thursday. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to the store to find the world's largest bottle of Febreze.

Peace,
Bradley


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