Don’t Let the Love (Or Bed) Bugs Bite

I have just become another statistic. I am another check in the positive column, another victim, another story, just another face in the crowd. I lived life, took some chances, and have now been burned. All the good advice, lessons lived and learned, and warning signs everywhere don’t amount to squat now. It didn’t work for me, and even though you won’t listen and will believe it can never happen to you, I am here warning you that it can happen to you just as easily. So adios to my romantic life, goodbye to late night booty calls, farewell to morning sex, good night and sleep tight. I have the modern day clap, contemporary leprosy, and the gift NYC offers to the rest of the world: I have bed bugs. I heeded all the advice. I checked all my bags daily and all the hotels I stayed in, scouring the beds before, during, and after. A friend even told me how his exterminator buddy discovered the wooden subway benches are infested so I avoided them at all costs. Besides I am immaculate. Back in college my roommates called me Martha Stewart because I would stay up until sunrise cleaning up after our parties ended. The other day I got a notice that someone in my apartment building had bed bugs so they offered free inspections. I accepted, figuring better to be safe than sorry. Surprise on me. I haven’t seen any signs of them, but the dog says they’re there. But we are in the age of the ego, so it can be reasoned that I am not to blame. Worst case scenario the dog should be euthanized and best case I’m owed a monetary settlement. OK, perhaps I’m being a bit melodramatic. Then again, that’s what doctors tell you about cold sores and herpes. When I found out, first I called home to break the bad news to my family. After, I called the woman whose vagina had been over the most. She immediately decided she wasn’t coming over until after the treatments were done, but then she came to her senses and recanted. Since I “got” them first then I have become the one who gave them to everyone else. After all, everyone thinks it cannot be me so whoever smelt it, dealt it. It’s so similar to STD’s where ignorance allows an infection because of a failure by others to detect through testing. “I hope YOU didn’t give them to ME”. In reality, the issue begs how they know they didn’t give them to you in the first place? Ultimately, the blame game is pointless because it doesn’t contribute to a solution. So it really is no different from STD’s, complete with awkward calls revealing your status or poems revealing an incurable condition. “Roses can be red, violets are sometimes blue, the doctor says I definitely have herpes, so now so do you!”. At least with the clap, you can think back, “damn, I knew I should have used a condom on that 6th hooker that crazy night in Amsterdam.” With herpes you can blame yourself, “that’s what I get for dropping a few hundred at legendary Sin City fingering and licking snatches.” But with bed bugs, it’s more like, “wait, that overpriced $15 horror flick in that crowded movie theater was on infested seats that gave me a gift that keeps on giving?” Bed bugs are the new disease, the new date and relationship killer. But it doesn’t kill love because if it were love, people wouldn’t be so quick to exit stage left. If a romantic interest can’t weather something as minor as an infestation scare, how can we expect them to weather something as complex and challenging as marriage? Around this time last year I got sick and lost my voice for a month. At the time, I was involved with 5 different women. I was closest to the Colombian, but she didn’t want to deal with it and told me to call her when I could talk. The Jamaican said she couldn’t understand me and would call me later but never did. The Haitian said poor me and even though she kept calling, she kept things brief preferring to wait for my voice to return. The Brasilian was content with my hand motions on skype but thought her brujeria would cure me, but only if I returned to her country. But the Dominican who I knew the least about was the only one willing to spend hours trying to converse and listen to what I could whisper. She was the only one who seemed to make an effort at my low point, which became a major reason why I dropped all the others cold and pursued just her once I felt we had chemistry. Of course we all know how she really turned out. There are lessons to be learned every day at every step of the way if you’re willing to stop and look closer, look deeper at everything around you. Dating problems are only problems if you see them as problems. Marriage takes work, so it’s a blessing when you discover someone prefers to run at the slightest inclination of there being an issue because you immediately know they are not the one. Perhaps this month of treatment and solitude will be good to help me refresh who really wants to be in my life and who is only around when times are good. So good night, sleep tight, and perhaps the love bug will bite, because if it’s not love then you’ll find yourself living life out of black garbage bags. Better yet, as a good friend suggested we should mandate body condoms to prevent infection, just as long as the condoms have a hole for where the fucking happens. The love bug came and bit me, but when I awoke all I found was the leftover hollow shell of a bug once in my bed, a small price to pay for taking a chance at building something to last a lifetime.