The nurse comes with two long cotton swabs. She makes me deep-throat the first one and then asks me to pull down my pants. She forces the second one down my urethra. It hurts like a motherfucker. “Now we need a blood sample,” the nurse says, the tip of my dick still stinging. The other nurse, a guy, asks me how many sexual partners I’ve had in the last 6 months. Takes me a whole minute to finally respond “Around 8?” He writes some shit down, as a needle enters my vein and drains my blood. “When was the last time you had unprotected sex?” the guy asks now. “Three days ago,” I say. “Then you are gonna have to come in three months to get tested again, to see if you have chlamydia, gonorrhea, hepatitis B or C…” he goes, while I feel like an idiot for not taking better care of myself. “It’s gonna sting,” the other nurse says. I look at her with a vague expression on my face. “Your penis. It will sting next time you pee,” she continues, with an innocent smile. “Great,” I think, biking back home from the Bispebjerg Hospital. I try to piss in the comfort of my toilet. She was right: it does fucking hurt. All over again. Shit.