Recently, while William, 21, was manning the chicken-wing fryer at a fast-food restaurant in suburban Seattle, he pulled aside his sort-of girlfriend, 18, a pizza deliverer there. He had bad news.
He had tested positive for gonorrhea and chlamydia. That meant she was very likely infected.
Loud, insult-fueled cross-accusations ensued. But the conversation did not disintegrate, as might otherwise be expected.
That is because William, who asked to be identified by his middle name to protect his privacy, was able to include some good news. The sort-of girlfriend — his term — would not need to face the hassle and embarrassment of being tested.