Doctor Doctor

Doctors are like teachers- you automatically assume that they do not have personal lives outside of their profession. Imagine: you're walking along in the produce section of the grocery store and up pops your high school math teacher. For some reason, you're surprised that the teacher is there. Teachers don't eat and consume beverage at will! This is craziness! The same goes for our medical personnel, who we assume have never set foot or lived outside of the hospital doors.

Until you bump into a few surprises, in the most unlikely of places …

Back in August I was experiencing some slight penile irritation from an unknown source (don't worry gents! Actual cause was too much coffee, I swear – Starbucks is the STD of the millennium). My doctor's office was fully prepared to test the myriad of possible explanations for this unpleasantness, including a fairly uncomfortable examination of my prostate by a young and friendly visiting intern.

The following Friday I proceeded to my gay locale of choice to enjoy a plethora of libations in a cozy cowboy atmosphere. And who should I see sweeping the dance floor without a lab coat? My precious intern!!!

Immediate drama ensued ("oh my god! Oh My God! OH MY GOD!!!"), but I kept my cool and avoided all contact with a man who knew my insides better than most (let's keep the snide comments to a minimum, please). However, it is difficult to avoid an intern who comes square up to your face and drags you out on the dance floor!

Later I was recounting the delicious doctor details to a friend: "It was so strange, Liz. One moment he has his lubed finger up my rectum, and the next minute we're doing the waltz!" Liz replied, "Yeah um … shouldn't it be the other way around?"

This fairy-tale (wink) is enough in and of itself to make any grandma keel over and demand oxygen, but wait- my doctor adventures were not over!

Last week I cruised into another enjoyable boy hot-spot in Dupont, where I came face to face with my orthopedic surgeon! Except this time, he was tending bar! "Why, hello doctor! Yes, my knees are doing better and I'll look into those supportive arches. Now, do a queen a favor and fetch us a Miller Lite." WTF …

I'll wrap it all up for you: a man who explored my rectal cavity asked me to dance, and another man who had a good, looooong look at the back of my "knees" while I was standing in my underwear bought me a beer.

Sigh … sadly neither of them were forward enough to check my throat with their tongue depressor.