7/12/2005

Come on...just one hit of the good stuff.

Apparently, there is nothing like a little sex talk to bring out the commenters. I'm pleased that so many of you were inspired to say something, and no, I don't feel so alone now. Phew, I'm not the only infertile to not be having constant sex. I dread to think how many Smug Fertiles that would confound, "Stupid, whining barren women. Perhaps if you had SEX you might get pregnant. All it takes is some sex and relaxation." Cue forehead slapping and eyerolls.

However, despite my proven frigidness, I am still a whore when it comes to one thing. No, I am not referring to Johnny Depp...so make that two things, yes, two things for which I am a total whore. The other object of my lasciviousness is small, compact and has two little windows into its evil yet beguiling soul. This creature of which I speak is cunning and seductive; it whispers to me when my husband has just left the room. You may call it an HPT, I call it The One For Whom I Will Spread My Legs in an Instant.

I asked The Dude to buy an HPT, intending to test right before Dr WHYBAML gave me the signal to start Provera. You know what they say about best-laid plans...The Dude casually handed over the instrument of doom to my outstretched hand, and like Gollum with His Precious, I snatched that bitch like a ravenous animal. I ran into the bathroom, fondling the double box of HPTs, debating whether to break down and just pee on one. I think you know where this is going. Once I figured out how to take the plastic wrap off the box (very complex act), it was but just a moment until I was glancing nervously at the second window.

Not surprisingly an empty white window stared back at me, which I expected of course, so I ditched it before it could taunt me further. I had sex twice a week for the past month for this? Fate, you gotta give me something to work with here!

I know I'm not the only one out there that has been so used and abused by HPTs. The emotional abuse continues, yet we keep going back. We are a sick bunch of cats, this much is true. This twisted group has some new recruits over at yonder blogroll. Some are newborn bloggers, whereas others have been around for awhile and my lackadaisical ass has only just gotten round to adding them. Give them some love.

17 comments:

Manuela said...

Oh, yes... our love hate relationship with the hpt... that evil puppetmaster who rules our emotions with as much regard for our mental well-being as so many marionettes...

You know those tobacco warning labels? Surely the FDA or whomever it is that governs such things has been highly remiss in ensuring potential consumers of HPTs have been appropriately cautioned. Instead of graphic photos of diseased lungs... it should feature a desparate looking infertile sobbing on the floor of her bathroom... again...

oh...um... maybe that's just me.

Jenn said...

Hi, my name is Jenn and I'm a peestickaholic. It has been 64 days since I last peed on a stick. Mother's day in fact. Damn that's depressing

Suz said...

Ah. Male factor has rendered me a neophyte. I know that I can get pregnant by "natural" means, so why bothering testing? I'm trying so hard not to buy any because I can sense the addiction looming simply by staring that that little purple box.

Suz said...

Meant to say CAN'T. CANNOT get pregnant by natural means.

Big distinction there.

Em said...

I would define my relationship with HPTs at toxic and therefore to protect my revovery I should avoid them unless it is absolutely necessary to interact (i.e. I ever actually need to bloody use one!)

MM said...

I know of what you speak, err, write. Just this morning I opened my medicine cabinet and starred longingly at my most prized and reviled possession-- my box of hpts. I even considered using one. But since I haven't done the nasty in God knows how long, that wouldn't have been the most logical or cost effective thing to do. Not that there's a chance in Hell the damn thing would be positive even if I'd been a nympho for the past month.

Molly said...

Why is it that once you get the idea of peeing on a stick in your mind, it takes an event like . . . oh . . . an F4 tornado or world war to get your mind off of them? I swear, they're like little bugs that burrow into your brain and laugh at you.

Panda said...

Hi, my name's Panda and its been 51 days since I have peed on a stick.

Sometimes I would POAS every day. Sometimes I would even look at pre-peed-on sticks in the vague hope that they had changed colour and would now be able to satisfy my uncontrollable desires.

I am ashamed of my behaviour. Acknowledgement is the first step, they say...

The second, of course, is being told its male factor.

Thank you Pru for including me in your twisted group. I'm touched.

Millie said...

I used to have a big problem with the stick. I craved love and attention. I jonesed for the second line.

But then I was horribly betrayed. My very own FRED lied to me. When there should have been a second line, there wasn't.

Then my abuser forced me to endure another iui cycle and waste a lot of money when I was already pregnant. Finally there was a little bit of emergency surgery.

That damn FRED, what a bastard. Killed all my trusts in the sticks and forced me to the harder stuff--blood tests. Just can't go back.

Dooneybug said...

I pee on sticks practically everyday thanks to the piece of shit otherwise known as the Clear Blue Fertility monitor. I have not let myself fall victim to the HPT, I will only take one if I'm late. Of course, once that minute hand turns to the hour of absentness, if you listen real hard, you can hear me ripping into one of those suckers.

But just for fun today, I peed on an OPK. You know, since I'm on CD22 and all, I thought "hey, why not piss another $2 away?"

I guess I get enough fulfillment peeing on CBE monitor and OPK sticks everyday that it subdues the urge to bless a HPT each month.

Nico said...

I'm with Suz here, haven't actually ever used an HPT since 'natural' pregnancy doesn't seem to be in the cards for me.

I did, however, take one with me on my trip to South Africa, to make sure I wasn't preg before going on the pill to start my treatment. It was tucked away in my suitcase... M and I went down to the restaurant in the hotel lobby for lunch, and when we came back I noticed an HPT lying on the floor outside our room. OPENED! Looked a little closer, and it sure looked like the one I'd had in my bag. Checked the bag - NO HPT!!! So the maid went through my stuff, found the HPT and USED it.

Now that, my friends, is a serious POAS problem!

(No, I didn't actually look at the result, it may have just been ripped open and lying on the floor, but I was pretty sure she'd peed on it and I didn't want to have any of that!)

Ova Girl said...

I feel there's some beautiful artwork to be made out of the stack of collected peesticks and LH tests I have kept in a basket in my bathroom. It's like every one is a little plastic window of dashed hopes. Perhaps a college...or a little peestick garden might be nice...

Julie said...

~hiding in a dark alley~

Psst, over here. So, you've got the monkey on your back I see. Let me show you this lovely website to fix your jonsing.

http://www.early-pregnancy-tests.com/index.html

Emma B. said...

OvaGirl, the thought of saving the pee sticks/OPKs and art-ifying them actually occurred to me too! I'm a relative newbie to the tyranny of the sticks, but I can already tell this is going to go down that bad co-dependent path.

I still maintain that pee-sticks need to be co-marketed with chocolate and/or liquor.

PJ said...

I like Emma's idea of co-marketing. You know how you get the free HPT with the OPKs you should get a free HPT if you buy 5 chocolate bars. I think it's a grand idea.

thalia said...

Hate them. I think peeing on one is directly correlated with starting your period. No question.

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