Maybe this insurance I have, said to be about as good as it gets in the working world, isn’t all that. I did get 5-figures worth of dental work done for nothing paid by me. There is that, and that had been on my list of things to get done while I hold this job. But yesterday’s visit to the dermatologist, which was supposed to excise once and for all a couple of hideous skin tags, ended up being just a full body screen. Why? Because I did not realize I was required to get a referral from the PCP. I have not had to get a referral to see a specialist in over 20 years. I honestly did not even think those were still being done. Referrals. You need them if any kind of procedure is to be performed, which in this case would have meant zapping the skin tags. In this case there would likely not even have been time to get the referral, since the PCP has proven to be quite lethargic about things like prescription refills and other routine requests. So the all-in-one derm appointment yesterday was for naught, and the dude implied I might need to make two more appointments for the procedures.
Memories of the sperm derm could not keep themselves at bay. I can talk about it now since the trail is cold and even her minimal social media presence seems to have vanished. I saw a dermatologist a few years ago who, the moment she walked into the room, made it clear she was flirty as fuck and wanting to get to know me outside the office. It was strange but undeniable. In the opening minutes she addressed the epidermal issues at hand whilst blurting out her exact home address, relationship status, and osme obscure-to-me references to “Sex and the City” that I no longer remember. I was wearing nothing but the thin papyral robe they make you cover your body with after stripping naked. Her eyes didn’t drift, they bolted down to my junk. I thought she might reach down and grab it. At the end of the… I want to call it an encounter even if it was supposed to be a doctor visit… she finally took off her surgical facemask. Oh my God she was beautiful. I could not have been more turned on if she had taken off her shirt. In a nervous flash I saw everything that was to come. Well, almost everything. Nothing happened until after our follow-up appointment, and she was never to be my doctor again. But the weekend after our last appointment she came to my place and we got down to it with barely a word spoken. She was on a mission, it seemed. I should add that at no point during our nights together did I ever stop questioning what a woman half my age saw in me. I was older than her father. None of this bothered me enough to say anything that would disrupt the seeming chemistry we had. But was it chemistry or just a function? She exhibited no affection or softness toward me. Only an insatiable appetite for fellatio followed by long, slow sex on the mattress. We showered together, which was my suggestion. This was new for her, and I remain pleased to know that she said that thanks to me she would forever change her showering routine to do it the way I do it. I sit in the shower. That’s the best, most positive change I made to my diurnal routines in I don’t know how many years. It makes showering feel so much less frantic, and businesslike. Now if I try to stand in the shower I feel absurd. We have not communicated in I guess 2 years but I believe that she still does sit in the shower and I hope that in so doing she thinks of me at least once in a while.
It was obvious to me that this relationship could not go on forever. I think we made it 4 or 5 months. I don’t even remember except that it ended, perfectly amicably, sometime in the summer of 2021. It ended over her desire for me to cum on her face. That’s why I call her the sperm derm. A dermatologist with a craving for jizz on her skin. I did the deed but felt very weird about it. It seemed degrading, and wrong. That stuff belongs inside her body, not on it, at least not like this. I will say, though, that she also got me to pee on her face, another first for her, and as weird as that felt at first I came to feel it was actually really sweet, and fun. It was one of the few things we did that made her smile. Heck, it might have been the only thing that made her genuinely smile. We did that 3 or 4 times, in the shower. I wish we’d done it more, and I wished I’d asked her to pee on me.
What we did not do, and what brought things to an already inevitable finis, was shit. She wanted me to shit on her face and I just said no. No fucking way. I will allow that I used this difference of desires as a bit of an excuse to get out this mess altogether, but I never seriously regretted calling it off. She was fine with it. I suspect she had some other dude lined up already. As insatiable as she was it wouldn’t surprise or offend me to know she’d been screwing around with other guys the whole time.
There is more to the sperm derm story. I actually tried to make it feel like a real relationship but she was just not impressed or possessed of even a desire to go through the motions and fake being a traditional “couple” (I hate that word). Needless to say I don’t go to that dermatologist anymore. But she did flood my mind yesterday.
I expected sunny warm weather yesterday but mostly all I got was wind and rain. Weather forecasts were all wrong. After the derm visit I thought I’d roll out to Brooklyn but nothing felt right in terms of going places and doing things on my precious day off. I went back home and posted a couple of copies of Apology Magazine to archive.org. I think I’ve posted all that I have of that publication to archive. There are, as far as I know, only 2 issues I do not have, and which in fact I only learned of their existence within recent years. Allan claimed the magazine had thousands of subscribers in the end but that had to be a lie. Guess I shouldn’t begrudge him that. Lying works, most of the time.
I went to a bar, the only one I frequent anymore, if going twice a month on average counts as “frequenting” a place. I’ve connected with a few women there but our paths never seem to cross at quite the opportune moment. Instead I play the video game, securing my legacy for all times by getting high scores on every game possible, even games I hate or would otherwise not expect to be any good at. The bartender I talk to most there is going to Greece for 2 weeks. I thought he said “Grief” at first. I was wearing a “GOOD GRIEF” t-shirt. I have to go.