Reports of my Demise MAY be Greatly Exaggerated

So I had my annual physical yesterday (annual means "I go when something hurts," right?). I'm not sure if my doc is squeamish, apathetic, stupid, or if he just doesn't care.

He asked me if I'm having safe sex - I sheepishly responded, "Well, I'm umm, sorta having unprotected sex with my girlfriend." (Note: She is on pill)
"Just her though, right?"
"Yeah?"
"That's okay, then."

Huh?

I hope he doesn't give lectures to sex-ed classes....

Doc - "The fact is class, as long as you're monogamous with your partner, you can have all the unprotected sex you want!"
Student - "But isn't it possible that you unknowingly may have something or maybe your partner has some STD?"
Doc - "Well, you've had unprotected sex, right?
Student - "Right."
Doc - "And you're clean, right?"
Student - "Right."
Doc - "There ya go."
Student - "There what goes?"
Doc - "Any more questions?"

While he's giving me the exam, I kept waiting for the "doctor reach around" (you know what I mean) - but he never went for it. My prostate could be equivalent to an angry grapefruit, ready to burst with toxic flavor and he'll never know.

Also, memo to self: Shave chest hair before getting EKG - not only did Nurse Ratchet have to keep pressing the thingys into my chest to get a reading, but taking them off felt like I was getting shot nine times. I know how Fiddy felt.

I wonder if he cried too?

Rock On,

Aitch