Best wishes,
Maxine, Editor,
London Magazine
“Oh my God,” I cried out. “Emma, look!”
She peered over my shoulder to read the email and seconds later screeched with excitement. “Ohmigod, Ellie! This is amazing, I’m so proud of you. They said they loved the vlog—I can’t believe it! How cool is that?!”
“I know, this is crazy,” I said, grinning wildly.
“What is?” asked Kara, who’d been at the Never Have I Have Ever party, nudging me. Now that we were all about to go our separate ways and graduate, everyone was being overly friendly. It was the end of an era and we were so terrified to start properly in the real world that we were trying to cling to the student one for as long as possible.
“I just got offered an internship for London Magazine.”
“You have got to be kidding me,” she cried. “They only give out one internship every year. Well done, that’s amazing!”
“Get you.” Emma grinned. “Beating all those other aspiring journalists! I’m so impressed.”
“Not just any aspiring journalists either,” said Kara, smiling. “I know Hannah applied for it too. She had her heart set on it, actually. She got a rejection email earlier and stormed off home.”
We all exchanged glances and burst out laughing. I couldn’t believe I had finally got my own back on Hannah Fielding. Fuck her and her hippie headbands—I was a better writer than her.
“What’s so funny?” asked Charlie as he joined us and put his arm around Kara. He gave her a sloppy kiss. I looked at Kara in alarm, waiting for her to shove him off. She kissed him back. Whoa. I’d definitely missed that.
I caught Emma’s eye and her mouth fell open. “Oh my God, how did we miss that gem of gossip?” she whispered as Charlie and Kara walked away, leaving us alone.
“Tell me about it. I’m going to miss these people,” I said fondly, looking at the sun shining on the group and their vintage dresses and skinny jeans. “I feel like the end of a film. Or the end of a Christmas special, you know?”
Emma laughed. “I think you’ve got some serious rosé-tinted and G-and-T-enhanced glasses going on.”
My phone beeped again. “One sec.” I grinned as I tapped open my screen. “Probably just another internship offer. It’s so hard being successful.”
Emma rolled her eyes at me. “One internship offer and she thinks she’s the next Jeremy Paxman.” I didn’t reply and she looked at me in concern. “Ellie, are you okay? I was kidding.”
Wordlessly I looked up from my phone and passed it to her.
“What is it?” she asked in confusion, her face scrunched up. “‘Dear Ms. Kolstakis. Thank you for visiting Gower Street Practice. Your test results have come back positive for chlamydia. Please call 0207’ . . . OH MY GOD,” she cried, staring at me. “Ellie, are you okay?”
I stared at her numbly. Okay? Was I okay? I’d got chlamydia on the one occasion in my entire life when I’d had sex. And we’d used a condom. HOW WAS THIS OKAY?
“Babe, it’s fine,” she said soothingly. “Everyone has chlamydia. It’s so easy to treat, and it’s symptomless so no one knows. You’ve caught it so early so they can get rid of it. Seriously, it’s fine. Did you not use a condom, though?”
“YES,” I wailed.
“Maybe you got it from oral sex, then,” she suggested.
“You can get chlamydia from blow jobs?” I cried, and then lowered my voice as people turned to stare. “Why does no one tell me this stuff?!”
“Oh, babe,” she said. “I’m sorry. It’s so unfair. Hardly anyone uses condoms for oral sex, and you’ve only done it once and caught it. That’s such shit luck.” She gave me a sympathetic hug.
“I can’t believe I have chlamydia.” I moaned dramatically. “I’m like the Virgin Mary, except instead of getting a baby Jesus, I got chlamydia. And I’m not even a virgin anymore.”
She patted my arm understandingly. “I’ll go and get you another G and T,” she said.
I sat alone on the bench contemplating my news as I waited for her. I was no longer a virgin. I had completed my goal. I’d come into contact with an actual condom on an actual penis, and I’d taken a chlamydia test. In fact, I hadn’t just completed my vow; I’d taken it one step further and actually contracted chlamydia.
I laughed to myself as I slurped the last bits of melted ice cubes through my straw. After twenty-one years of surviving virginity, chlamydia didn’t really seem like a big deal.