Under the Guise - 5. Getting Burned

“Ahh...fuck!”

It was happening again! Every once in awhile, when I needed to go to the bathroom, I’d notice this burning feeling creep up inside me. It hadn’t been going on for very long, maybe a few days, and it felt more irritating than anything. Since it has come and gone, I figured it was on its way out of my system. That was my hope.

“You okay over there?”

I zipped up and flushed. “Uh yeah...no worries, man.”

PJ was shaving at the sink in the shared shower room on our dorm floor. How he manages to shave in this dank restroom is beyond me. Exclaiming “My dick is burning!” was not exactly something I’d wanted to confide in anyone about, not even PJ, and I, not so conspicuously, dropped the subject.

My dad was the only person I thought I could talk to. He works as a nurse in one of those larger public hospitals who probably see a whole gamut of diseases that many of us have never even heard of, seeing the way they morph, contort, and change people’s bodies in strange and often painful ways. Yet still, I couldn’t muster up the courage to pick up the phone and give him a call, at least for some advice. I’d kept it to myself, though he’s surely heard it all.

“Really, that’s it?” I could hear him saying. “Here’s what you can do for-”

“Aye!” PJ got me out of my head and back to the dorm restroom. “Should I keep the soul patch, or lose it?”

“Are you trying to look like Zac Efron or Justin Timberlake?”

“Well no, but-”

“Lose it.”

_______________________________

I don’t actually have a problem with Zac Efron, Justin Timberlake, or soul patches. Hell, Lex was on his way to having one after I made some passive comment about liking his scruff. Now, he’s going for some look that I would expect from mountain men and lumberjacks.

But I can say I’ve had a shift in mood these last few days. Loren and I haven’t spoken to each other since our run-in about my willingness to be an adulterer. We used to see each other every day, and not speaking definitely changed how I structured my days: less time spent around friends equaled more time spent with Lex. PJ was stuck in the middle and had to divide his time between us.

“Could you both just kiss and make up?” he asked.

I told him, “I don’t kiss girls,” being stubborn and petty.

“...Could you close your eyes and pretend?”

Lex and I became more risque with our endeavors, like him leading me out the side exit just as his wife was parking the car, or me blowing him while he spoke to her on the phone. I still hadn’t even seen her face. Being his “mentee,” neighbors didn’t think twice about my visits as far as I knew. It didn’t matter if it was morning, afternoon, or evening. They’d wave their “hellos” to me like I was a welcomed visitor to the community. It was thrilling to be involved in this, what a wild story to tell! I found myself callous and thought little of my transgressions. I didn’t even care if Lex had children.

PJ stopped inquiring where I was going when I took trips off-campus. “I hope it’s worth it,” he said, and I had to wonder if he thought I’d be over this by now. Maybe he presumed my moral compass would steer me in the right direction by now. But alas, my conscience had checked out...

_____________________

Against my better judgment, I went ahead and gone to an LGBTQA Alliance meeting. Lex and PJ were both preoccupied, so I wound up looking pitiful and going solo. The LGBTQA Alliance had its own space in the student center where the large, rainbow flag from the school fair hung on the side window, keeping anyone from peering inside. The room was warmed by an electric fireplace, with comfy couches and seats positioned into a circle. Sweet treats and lots of conversation abounded. The celebrity “gays” like Margaret Cho, Wanda Sykes, and Ru Paul had their pictures on the wall looking significant and magical. The queer community within our school had a lot of characters, with one girl wearing a unicorn hat and a dude walking around with stiletto heels and a matching skirt. Mr. High Top Fade from the fair had on rainbow suspenders and a white collared shirt with a nametag on it. Name: Preston, Pronouns: He/His, Position: Secretary. Judging by how he presents himself, I bet I can guess what position he also likes to be in.

Unfortunately, as every queer and trans person knows, the LGBT community is small, too small. So who do I see straight ahead as I’m coming in through the door?

Loren. Fucking Loren.

She was hanging out with the Gothic girl from the fair who had her name, Dawn, pronouns, she/her, and club position, President, on her cardigan. She looked ready to take care of business and get these gays in line.

Loren peered over when she noticed me at the door. Her face was pretty blank. She didn’t show any annoyance or surprise by my presence. I took this to mean she was okay with us coexisting, but don’t fuck with her.

“Alright, everyone!” Dawn announced. “Grab a treat and take a seat while we go over today’s agenda!”

Today’s agenda was in regards to the LGBTQA Social now turned into Masquerade Party. I was expecting plenty of glitter and shine, everyone pairing up so they’ll have a date. And in the midst of the meeting, who do I find but Mr. Faux Justin Bieber, hanging out in the back near the drink and snack table. He looked incredibly ordinary with his T-shirt and jeans. He smiled at me when we both locked eyes, right as he was pouring himself a glass of milk. Unfortunately, the freshie was too distracted and spilled some on his crotch. THIS was Loren and PJ’s potential suitor for me?!

“Then it’s agreed,” Dawn announced. “The Masquerade Party will be at the end of the week. Have a gay day everybody!”

Once the meeting ended, folks still hung around the lobby to talk to one another. I could sense Loren nearby and didn’t want to give her the impression that I was a loner that had nothing else to do but wallow in my dorm. Instead, I made my way to the drink table where Faux Justin Bieber was, with damp paper towels littering his lap.

“Hey,” I greeted him.

“Hey!” he said enthusiastically, attempting to clean his jeans more with those soggy paper towels. “I remember you! Sorry, I kinda had a spill.”

“No need to apologize.” He smiled shyly, his face flushed. Those newborn baby eyes kept pointing toward his shoes and the floor. He did have nice boots…

“Need a towel or a jacket to cover up?”

“Oh, it’s alright!” he said. “No need to trouble yourself. I wish I didn’t have to go home like this though. I commute here from the north end. I guess if I stayed here until it dried…”

Hopeless… I couldn’t let the guy sit around nursing his damp crotch.

“If I left you here with milk-covered jeans, I’d feel like an ass. I can at least grab you a pair of shorts from my dorm and you can clean up in there.”

His eyes lit up like it was the nicest thing someone had ever done for him, becoming heavy with water. “You’d do that?! Thank you, that’s really nice of you! Could you remind me of your name again?

Suddenly, I had that uncomfortable, burning feeling well up inside me. Ugh, I knew exactly what it meant and I became frustrated with my body. Dammit, why do I have to pee so much?!

“Could you excuse me for a sec?” I made my way out the meeting room and headed towards the restrooms specifically made unisex because hey, what’s the point of gender anyway am I right? I went inside, found a stall, and braced myself. Sometimes it hurt, sometimes it didn’t. Maybe if I’m lucky this time-

“Fuck me!!” I exclaimed, probably louder than intended. I socked the wall above the toilet. What the hell is happening to me?! When does the shit stop? It’s like a bad joke that won’t end. I needed to do something about this.

“Hey…” There was a low voice in the restroom. I realized I wasn’t alone. I zipped up quickly and tried to come out appearing as normal as possible. But putting on a face wasn’t necessary because who else would it be, but Loren, standing by the sinks and looking toward my stall. Her hair was in a ponytail and she wore a nice coat with fake fur on the hood that seemed too warm for this weather. I bet she thought she looked so damn cute.

Her brow furrowed, “Don’t look at me weird. It’s a unisex bathroom.”

“No duh…” I was frustrated by my burning pain, I couldn’t help but feel irritated by Loren.

“Is something wrong?”

“Please don’t, Loren. I’m not in the mood to be interrogated.”

She pshawed. “I’m not interrogating you. You sounded like you were in pain and I’m asking you what’s the matter. If you’re going to be a dick about it…”

The mention of the word made me so uncomfortable I could’ve scratched my face off. She was only helping, and I was being a jerk…

I sighed. “If I tell you this, could you please not tell anyone?”

“Why would I do that? Are you confusing me with PJ?”

Fair enough. I walked myself to the wall at the edge of the sinks to lean on and felt unnaturally heavy, prostrated to the point where I started sliding down to the ground. I covered my face before I spoke.

“I think I have a problem...down there.” Loren looked in the direction of my finger, her eyes widening a bit.

“Oh,” she said, as though wishing she never asked. “That’s definitely out of my level of expertise.” Regardless of my strange issue, she appeared to be pontificating some solutions. Ah, Loren, you’re too good to me. “I think you need to see a nurse.”

My eyes widened in horror. “How the hell am I supposed to look at some stranger in the face and tell them that my dick burns when I pee?!” As I finished saying this, the door to the bathroom quickly closed shut without Loren and I not knowing who they were. Great, now EVERYONE is going to know about my problem. I should’ve known better than to talk about medical issues in a public restroom.

“Well, how else do you plan on dealing with this? This could be serious. The symptoms you describe could be a UTI, or a…” She trailed off and looked unable to say the words. Loren looked at me with a serious look.

I said, “Why are you looking at me that way? ‘The symptoms of’ what?”

“...An STI or STD.”

_____________________________

Loren helped me with Faux Justin Beiber and bringing him back to my dorm. She had to do most of the chatting; our talk in the restroom left me despondent, even scared. I couldn’t have an STD or STI. The only person I’ve slept with was Lex, and he never mentioned anything about being positive for something. He told me I was the only one he was sleeping with anyway! It seemed so impossible, I even considered his wife as responsible. Why wouldn’t she be? It’s not like we’ve ever met, who knows what’s going on in that household. Maybe they cheated on each other! My thoughts ran wild trying to make sense of everything. Before I knew it, we were at the front of my dorm room.

“You have your keys?” asked Loren as we stood in front of it. From the tone of her voice, I could tell she was being as gentle as possible, trying not to tease.

We got inside and I gave Faux Justin Beiber some basketball shorts to wear. He was able to have his privacy and change in our communal shower room. He returned and had the most gracious smile on his face, bearing his unshaven, pale legs with so many brown hairs. I noticed a tattoo that said “Hope” on his calf. He was a cutie: a naive, dorky, world-saving cutie.

Once he was gone, Loren was on her way out herself when she said, “The nurse takes walk-ins. You can literally be seen tomorrow.”

“Okay. Thank you, I appreciate you.”

I shut the door and held my head. It couldn’t be, it just couldn’t…