I’m the STIG

So, I just got back from the clinic, and it’s official…

I’m the STIG: Sexually transmitted Infection guy.

It was bound to happen, I guess – a few too many times tripping the light fantastic and living la Vida Loca with dangerous liaisons.

 

It’s probably why I took forever to get myself checked out. Can’t a guy just enjoy himself?

I mean, why can’t I live in a world where I’m allowed just to be free?

But here I am. The walls are already starting to close in on me.

My skin is on fire – not with ‘the itch’. It’s like the more I know I should stay home, the more I want to burn myself out of this body and fly.

I’m not used to this ‘grounding’ at night. I need to be grinding, hunting, looking for the ‘kill’. I need to be where the music pumps, the lust, the looks, everything that lets me know I’m hot, I’m here; I’m wanted.

 

Sure, I could go out right now. But I’m not allowed to drink on these meds.

So much for ‘social lubrication’.

I can’t take anyone home tonight anyway.

How fucking embarrassing. And yet I’ve got this tiger-rage wanting to explode through my door and just find…someone.

 

I need the party, the noise. People, bodies, dancing, crashing into one another –

Anything to take me out of my thoughts – away from this silence.

It’s the silence that kills.

 

But it’s only a few nights of being ‘good’.

It’s just a few nights of taking care of myself.

Just a few nights of calling everyone I’ve been with for the last two months to have THAT conversation.

God, why did I leave it so long?

Maybe this will be good. Maybe some time away from the scene will help me with perspective.

It’s not like `I’ve been enjoying these the last few months anyway. Same M.O. Same clubs, same surface-speak and empty promises.

Same silence and raging solitude after they’re gone.

 

This rage just doesn’t quit, though! I just want to escape!

But escape from what?

What am I avoiding? Or whom?

The truth is I’m not the wolf. I’m not the party-guy. I’m a guy feeling pretty ashamed of himself right now. I don’t know why.

They say I’m not supposed to feel ashamed with an STI, but it’s there anyway.

I want to say sorry to the world, to myself. I did this. And even if I didn’t, I was part of it.

Is it time to stop pretending?

 

It’s the last thing I want to do – interrogate this feeling – but hey, maybe it is time.

Maybe I’ve got some growing up to do – learning why I can’t be alone.

Maybe I need to think about what being healthy and staying healthy means –

What looking after myself really means.

 

I sound like an STI pamphlet. But hey, someone wrote that because they cared.

The least I can do is sit a few nights out and figure out some shit.

 

Right now, I’ve got nothing but myself and…time.

 

 

Dax Lambert is a contributing writer for Anova Health Institute.  These are his views, which may or may not reflect those of Anova and its affiliates.