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subwaythru -> RE: protected anal sex? (5/17/2010 4:46:39 PM)
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The whole subject is so tiresomely repetitive to me. My innards are so frikkin sensitive I had decided, dramatically, to Give Up. Even the condoms cause infection, themselves, whether door #1, door #2, or Door #3, or any combination or all of the above are selected for this lucky contestant. Even among condoms, the supposed really allergy- sensitive bring on frightful symptoms that are better shrouded in discretion.
However, when all else failed, I bit the bullet and discussed the matter frankly with the doc and she shrugged and said there are just some females who get infections after sex come what may yuk yuk (and yes, she actually said that.) She prescribed a massive one-time prescription antibacterial-antibiotic for each time I get lucky and so far, so good. No preaching about over-use of antibiotics, please. I'd rather die of the common cold than endure one more god damned UTI, bladder infection, or just plain old insatiable butt-itch.
Now, since we are being terribly detailed, the seemingly insurmountable thing about anal sex is the inevitable release of trapped air, spontaneously, innocently, and unsuspectingly introduced into any and all social situations minutes, hours, days, and even weeks afterward. Talk about "lives for humiliation"....one time I burst out laughing after a refreshing bout when my fond assailant and I repaired to the kitchen for peanut butter sandwiches and milk, and each fresh burst of laughter excited rapid-fire reports resembling nothing so much as heavy machine gun fire, or, as said assailant gasped between gales of laughter, an impromptu rap performance. His enjoyment of my discomfiture inspired him to heights of comic relief that only made matters that much more deeply petrifying to my already riddled pride. Nowadays, he can offer dinner out at the finest establishments following activity of this sort, with gleam of pure sadistic glee in his dancing eyes. Like I'm going to knowingly put myself in the position of farting all the way across the hushed dining room while being ushered to our table, or answer the waiter's queries with a protracted expression of uncontrolled flatulence, as my partner collapses in helpless giggles.
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