Tuesday, July 12, 2005

I wish I had genital herpes.

I really do.

The people in those Valtrex ads look so damn happy. They seem to lead such exciting lives.

Nothing like my life.

First of all, look at how attractive the couple is at their web page.

Now I'm no dog, but that girl probably weighs half as much as I do. I could break her skinny little arms in two with one hand shake. And that guy has some serious eye crinkle going on. But look at his hair. My husband is a beautiful man, but he gave up on the thick and wavy hair dream years ago.

Second of all, look at the things these genital herpes sufferers do.

I can make my life sound exciting if I try. For example, my husband and I went to New York City last weekend.

Now, if we had herpes we would have driven there in a classic convertible with the top down and the wind blowing through our thick hair. Instead, we drove a mini van.

If we had herpes, we would have sipped expensive wine with dinner after our arrival at a posh hotel. In reality, we had a hotel room next to an elevator shaft that must have been converted from a janitor closet. We did eat a wonderful dinner at the Blue Fin on Broadway, (I couldn't resist thanks to the tuna reference) but we drank tap water with our sushi and salmon.

If we had herpes we would have met our fellow herpes sufferers for a fun drink out at a kicky little lounge.

Well, we did meet some cohorts, whether or not they have herpes remains to be seen. We met MAK, Aaron, Rob, Greg, Crash, Jase, Tin Man, Mike, Patch, and Michael for this man's birthday at the X Avenue Lounge. (Which I couldn't find because I was actually looking for a number 10.)

We had a blast. A Jim Bean soaked blast. But if we had genital herpes we would have all been throwing our heads back in wide-mouthed merriment while our perfect teeth shined and sparkled in the perfect cold sore camouflaging light.

If we had herpes we would have been up bright and early enjoying the rain-soaked city. Instead we slept past noon.

If we had herpes we would have run through the pouring rain, spinning and laughing and throwing our heads back with glee. Instead we sprinted, heads down against the rain, to buy umbrellas from a camera shop, only to proceed to the largest Applebee's on earth.

Yes, we ate at Applebee's while we were in the cultural food capital of the world. Don't blame us. It was raining really hard and the Applebee's was right there looking all warm and dry. If we had genital herpes, I'm sure we would have found some cute little cafe to cuddle in. Damn those genital herpes sufferers, setting the dining bar so high for the rest of us.

If we had only had a herpes outbreak or two, we would have braved the rain to shop on 5th Avenue. Instead, my rain-hating husband bought me a cup of coffee and took me back to our janitorial closet for a nap.

I wonder if the herpes couple would have had sex then.

We didn't. We hung out and slept and were total sloths. When we finally got our shit together we dragged our asses over to X & 44 on MAK's recommendation. MAK told us, "That's my favorite restaurant over here. And not just because of the hot waiters."

The food and service were excellent and the waiters were quite hot. They were lively and beaming too. Hmmm. Maybe they have genital herpes.

We proceeded to the theater after dinner. If we had genital herpes we would have been decked out in ass-hugging and cleavage-baring formal wear. We would have jumped from a cab looking perfect and swept right into the theater to our front row seats.

Instead, we dressed nicely, but wore hooded sweatshirts over our clothes because it was still pouring out and we hadn't brought nice coats. We were also soaked form the knees down from walking through the rain and puddles. We had to wait in line to get to our seats. But since we have orchestra tastes, we ignored our mezzanine budget and sprung for some excellent seats.

I'm sure our herpes-crusted friends would have seen something like Les Miserable or Phantom of the Opera, but we saw Avenue Q.

I love that show. But I don't think the cast had herpes. They seemed a little flat. Maybe I'm just spoiled from seeing the original cast last December and listening to the cast recording way too many times.

On second thought, maybe Barrett Foa has herpes, because he was just beaming. What a beautiful, beautiful man. Yes, yes. I'm sure of it. Barrett would fit right in with the herpes folks in the television commercials.

If we had herpes we would have swept out of the theater and into a waiting limo to whisk us to some exotic place for post-show dinner and drinks. But no. We headed back to our kennel for the night where I proceeded to toss and turn and grow more and more cranky until dawn.

In the morning, we decided that our herpes-free hides had experienced enough NYC glamour and we got our mini van out of hock and headed home.

We stopped at IKEA on the way. There were no herpes outbreaks there. Just hordes and hordes of suburban parents with their little monsters. Oh. And a few hundred gay men. If I were gay, male, and single, I know where I'd be hanging out to cruise.

I've decided that I need to catch some herpes right now. I'm tired of my mundane life. I want to go on long romantic hikes. I want to be skinny and beautiful. I want to laugh with my head thrown back like I haven't a care in the world.

So, any offers? I've been told I'm pretty talented. I'll make it worth your while. But you have to wear a condom. House rules.

Wait. Will that work?

Ah hell. I guess I'll just have to hang out with my friends and get my husband drunk more often. Who knew he'd be so much fun?

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