It sort of brings friends together. Now this diverse group has something in common- a burning sensation while urinating. Their conversation crosses all barriers of gender and rational thought; “Yesterday, it felt like grains of rice, but today I’d say it’s much more of a coarse, sandy texture.” “Oh yeah, I’ve totally got that, and my urine is all cloudy!” Suddenly, bathrooms are always occupied and so friends must spend inordinate amounts of time shouting “Hurry up!” outside the door. Infected people search address books for old phone numbers in search of useless answers. Phones ring with urgent instructions. Occasionally, old friends become new friends once again. Attempting to carefully unravel the tangled chains of ex-relationships, charges are leveled at nebulous memories of transient acquaintances. Strange, friendly blame is also placed; “You’ve ruined my fallopian tubes! Give me a shot!” Drinks are consumed and somewhere an injection is covertly administered. Drunken mouths exchange horror stories; “Did you know it can be spread through damp towels?! I didn’t!” One small damp towel shared between four people can lead to a lifetime of entertaining, embarrassing stories. Until someone gets an eye infection. Eye infections are never fun.
This time, eyeballs can rest easy. Infection has restricted itself to genitals. The conversation lingers on traditionally unacceptable topics, frequently the specific character of bodily fluids and their abnormal colors. One person seems to be overly familiar with the symptoms.
Everyone blames the man-whore.
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