![]() The other awkward part was the physical exam. Sometimes I would try to make my own transition … They would ask, “Does anything seem to make the headache better?” and I ’d say, “Yes, having unprotected, crazy, statutory-rape sex.” The doctor-teacher sitting on the other side of the one-way glass did not like that. I got more frustrated than they did with the “headache” prologue. ![]() This charade continued until finally, exacerbated after wasting 12 of their 15 minutes on my obvious non-headache, they would ask, “So what are you really here for?!” So the medical student would start on a rigorous course of questioning about my headaches to which I infuriatingly answered “ I don’t know” to every question. ![]() I would ’ve killed for it to just be “awkward.” I had to pretend I was there for a headache, because I was too embarrassed to come out and say I needed to talk about sex. Awkward was a dead fly on our rear view mirror. The young doctors-to-be were supposed to recognize that I was at risk for STDs and domestic violence and set me on a better path. I was supposed to act embarrassed and shy, and evasive and reluctant in answering questions. So I was looking for birth control pills. We had unprotected sex because he didn ’t like condoms. I worked at Taco Bell after school, and I started sleeping with my manager.
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