Baby, I Was Just Pretending to Have Crabs

by Kevin Remy  

Let's get one thing straight: I said a lot of things when we first started dating. Some pretty crazy shit. Like, for instance, volunteering at the 5th Avenue "Y" every Tuesday for developmentally challenged/asperger syndrome and bone-marrow transplant candidates? Jesus! Did you honestly think I spent my precious Tuesday nights dribbling around some dingy gym with a bunch of retards? And I'm not even lead synth player for a Blondie cover band. You figured that one out pretty quick. And my brother is not even the mayor of Coral Gables, Florida and my mom is not even dead so why won't you believe me now? Babes, I was totally pretending to have crabs. Honest, I was. 

I know, I know: why would I pretend to have some crabs? Geez, I don't know. I guess I was just trying to impress you. Make you think I was tough and all that. Make you think I was worldly, sophisticated, you know? All great men had one STD or another, the best ones two or three, at least. George Washington, the Earl of Rochester, Oscar Wilde, Bono, all those guys had the Clap or Gonorrhea or the Mumps or Syphilis. I think Woodrow Wilson had that one that made your balls look like cauliflower....Anyways, that's not the point. The point is I don't have crabs. No way, no how. I am just really itchy down there. I always have been. Funny story: In third grade, on my AYSO team, my coach was always saying....HEY! Baby, don't leave. Please! 

Okay. What do you want me to say? That I have crabs? Well, I won't say it. I won't lie to you. You can't make me lie to you, Karen! If that's the kind of relationship you want to be in then so be it. A relationship built on lies and deception and all this prying into my personal life and stuff. You know what? Maybe this just isn't going to work! If we're going to be so personal and forthright all the time I don't think I want this. I need to be with somebody who knows when I'm lying about having crabs and when I'm not. Somebody who thinks crabs are just hilarious. Somebody with a fucking sense of humor! Somebody who gets me. None of this: "You-said-you-had-crabs-so-I-think-you-have-crabs" bullshit. F-that! I don't need that bull. 

Wait! Karen. Don't leave me. I was just pretending to be mad! Can we have sex?