I've decided that a UTI is God's way of saying, 'Lay the fuck down and stay down.' However, courtesy of having to lay down and stay put, I've also decided that I should get married simply so that I have someone to take my dogs out to pee. And feed the cats. And yell at my hillbilly neighbors for being complete jackasses at 2 AM. Oh, how being stuck in bed makes you think...
I haven't had one of these puppies in ages, but back in the first years of my undergrad experience, like 12 years ago, I was Queen of the UTI. Seriously. It was every other week. Completely miserable. And there are stories. Everyone loves the one where I dragged a large black thug twice my size out of the mens' bathroom in the ER because I needed to go that badly. Or thought I did. And I did not know that the wonderful pills that take away the burning sensation but make your pee vibrantly orange were OTC. Never knew. Not until about 7 years ago when I was at the doctor's office and found myself crying & begging him to write me a prescription for - and I quote - 'the pills that my pee fluorescent. PLEEEEEAAAAAASEEEEE.'He snickered as he wrote it, all the while telling me they were available OTC. I hated him/wanted to have his babies right then. But way back when, for the life of me - I could never figure out what was wrong. I'm known for my OCD personal hygiene. Being a grown ass woman, I also knew the correct direction to wipe in. But I had these things incessantly. And my college boyfriend, otherwise known as possibly my favoritest boyfriend ever who I did not appreciate nearly enough at the time, was made to suffer these with me. And normally I would eschew his boundaries on privacy and totally link you to his Facebook page so that you could see what a freakishly handsome and brilliant man he is, but today I think I'll play nice in honor of all the back rubbing that sweet boy once did for me. So - I say made, but really it was more like I left him with no other option. He could take me to the doctor's office and the pharmacy and rub my back, etc. or he could let me lay on the bathroom floor crying and making sounds like a dying walrus. Correction - a dying walrus in heat. And we lived that crazy cycle for ages thinking ... I don't know what. At one point I was convinced it was completely psychosomatic behavior on the part of my vagina. Like my vagina was an entirely separate entity and she was somehow out to make my life miserable and sexless. That is until one day my doctor was really backed up and I had to see his Nurse Practitioner. I don't remember her name, but there is a shrine in her honor. Upon hearing that I suffered UTI's on a seemingly constant and continuous basis she asked me if they happened whenever my boyfriend was in town. And I was like, 'Lady, my boyfriend's always in town. He goes to college down the street.' She then tells me about the early days of her career when she volunteered at the student's medical center of whatever college she worked at and how after the weekends when everyone's boyfriends had been to visit all of the girls would be pretty much lined up around the corner with UTI's. And I ask her, 'This means what to me? Can you please just give me the pills that cause my pee to fluoresce?' What it meant to me was, did I ever get out of bed after sex to pee? I answered something to the effect of,'Eventually, but I'm kind of a guy. I generally roll over and go to sleep.' That it turned out was my problem. I was in awe. And bewilderment. And kind of pissed. I exited to the waiting room and gave my poor boyfriend a scowl that implied this was all the fault of him and his stupid penis. And I tell him what the apparent cause was. Sex became the most decidedly unromantic act after that. Well, after sex was. It was pretty much, "Done. Go pee! Pee now!!!" Screw cuddling, I had a man who was a Fixer and he was never hearing dying walrus in heat sounds again. Sometimes, I still want to send him a card that says, "Thanks for the years of always making me pee RIGHT AFTER sex. I haven't had anyone as thoughtful since."
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