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Post Info TOPIC: My keratoconus has ruined a potential relationship.


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Date: Wed Jul 1 7:15 PM, 2015
My keratoconus has ruined a potential relationship.
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It was a cold and dank December morning. Upon being awoken by the incessant chirping of some birds outside, I set my gaze once more on my bedroom windows, which present the characteristic "streaking" effect associated with keratoconus. To my dismay, the doorknobs even streak.... as do some posters on my wall which bear white on a dark background. Even bare walls streak. Damn.

Prior to my departure for work, I collected what I affectionately refer to as my "keratoconus bag" - which contains my KeraSoft ultra deluxe gas-permeable 25 percent contact lenses, a 1080p printed image of a misshapen cornea, and even a copy of "Life After Your Corneas and Hair Thin", signed by none other than David Allan Keratz and Louise Joanne Conuse, the co-founders of the optometrical diagnostic criteria for keratoconus.

I opened the door to leave when - holy light sensitivity, Batman!!! This happens far more than I care to count, and the saddest part is that there wasn't even an inkling of sunlight. Keratoconus has rendered me a damn near shut-in because of this.

Then, as I began to sit in my car, I prepared to put on my highly customised (and quite frankly overpriced) lenses ordered off a dodgy-looking Chinese optometric site - upon inserting them into my eyes experiencing extreme discomfort and feeling very much akin to SpongeBob in that old episode "Krabby Land", wherein the titular character sprays some bubble soap in his eyes and releases a bloodcurdling scream, his eyes swollen and bloodshot, with his pained expression especially pronounced. I assure you that wearing these lenses - and only THIS specific brand - is the only way to make my vision SOMEWHAT adequate. Corneal transplant surgeons and INTACS doctors turn me down almost immediately after hearing not even a millisecond of my working-class Liverpool tongue, which I have tried (and failed) in desperation to rectify.

At work, it didn't take long before I was scolded by my boss. I am without knowledge of his name, but I affectionately call him "Duncan". Duncan yelled, "'EY, LAD!! THIS AIN'T NO PLACE TO LOITER, YA DUMB SH*T!!!" Oh... yeah, I should mention about the nature of my job. For you see, it's not really a full-time job as such... it's not even a minimum wage job..... ...my job............consists of standing around a petrol station and waiting in vain for some poor saps to accidentally spew money and have it roll off into the road. Yeah....

ANYWAY, I was hiding behind a nearby rubbish bin when I spotted a really attractive, slim, blonde, ample-breasted and buttocked early-20s woman in the distance. She fingered her hair as she entered the station. I couldn't help but watch through the windows, sneakily avoiding the gaze and attention of the employees in the store. I swear she gave me a wink. As she left, bearing in mind my luck with members of the opposite sex in my days at school, I was expecting her to just leave and not even glance in my direction again.

Then the unexpected happened.

She spotted me in the corner, peeping out above the bin, and advanced towards me, her fingers running through her hair as her eyes sparkled (I did try to ignore the keratoconic streaking, however). Now, I was never one to spout the wittiest of one-liners to women - or, indeed, anything even vaguely resembling a coherent utterance - so here's what escaped my mouth...

"Nnngrhh.... Uuummfff..... .. ... .... .... ...PIZZA!!!!!!!!"

Expecting her to run a mile and then some, I quickly shut my hands over my mouth, totally embarrassed of the verbal shambles I had produced. But she giggled playfully, replying, "Heh heh, aren't you a cutie?" I could hardly believe my luck. Here I was, never in my life having been able to bag a female even the slightest bit resembling an Earthly creature, and this beauty was standing right in front of me, willing to look past my inherent nervousness. I felt like I'd been hit by a "luck arrow", or something.

Handing me her number, she smiled suggestively as she made her way back to her car, driving off. I'd done it. "SCORE!!!!!!", I thought.

Back at home, I was hit with the inevitable keratoconic niggles that persist like annoying children afflicted with ADHD who never shut the Hell up. "Oh, goody. Another bout of light sensitivity and visual distortions in synchronisation with my pulse rate...", I muttered to myself as I entered my house.

Sitting on the couch, I remembered just what had transpired earlier that day.... the woman. It was 7 in the evening - a perfect opportunity to invite her around. I'd host a romantic dinner with candles, the works. I had it all together in my mind.

So I gave her a call, we exchanged flirtatious banter, and within half an hour she showed up at my house, sporting a black, yet glimmering, dress along with high heels. I swear, it was as if her attractiveness was amplified by 50% compared to our encounter at the petrol station.

I'd established that the inexplicable exclamation of "PIZZA!!!" earlier was, in actuality, a Freudian slip relating to the formulation of plans for the night - so accompanying the two of us was a modest supply of pizza set out on the dining table. I didn't want her to fatten up just yet - I'd save that expectation for after marriage (yeah, don't fault me for my ability to think ahead).

So we each took a seat, with myself sporting a neat little suit I ordered for 40 off eBay. Of course, when it arrived, it was in a deplorable condition, so I took it to a clothes-fixing shop and had it refurbished for 73. Then I had its colours and finish accentuated with touchups I paid 87 for. Not the most efficient manner of acquiring a presentable suit, but I'm trying here!!!!!!

Anyway, I'm drifting. She also commented that I looked "stunning", and "like an adorable bewildered penguin". Now there's a bonus - this girl was so knowledgeable that she must have been to the Antarctic and observed not only penguins, but their facial expressions! This was one observant girl!

I blushed, and then realised that I hadn't yet accomplished the piece de resistance - shutting off the lights so that the only illumination came from the candles. So within seconds, I did just that.

That.... ... ...was when things began to turn a bit.... pear-shaped, let's say.

She started posing a variety of questions, like, "what do you do for a living?", "do you plan to have children?" and "what's your ideal holiday location?".... But then, my eyes set upon something horrifying - no, I tell a lie, MANY THINGS horrifying... because the candles were exerting an abundance of streaking, which obscured the view of my beau. I began to flutter and sweat, and stammered vigorously.

"Is there something wrong, honey?" she asked.

It was all I could do to not scream and flail my arms about like a madman, so I just sat there trembling and sweating as I continued to mumble incoherently. When suddenly...

"I DO NOT SUFFER FROM GHOSTING, HALOING, STREAKING, STARBURSTS, POOR NIGHT VISION, CORNEAL SCARRING, FLEISCHER'S RING, HYDROPS AND SHORTSIGHTEDNESS!!!!!!!!!!"

An awkward silence befell the room for a good 2 minutes.

"Sweetie.... Are you okay?"

"Aaaack.... gagagagagagagaga.... mmmrrfffffff....."

Right then, and out of the blue, I leapt up screaming wildly - flinging my arms around erratically as they shoved the candles off the table, saliva pouring from my mouth like a dog who has missed one too many meals.

"I.... I... have to go", the girl muttered.

Arriving at the realisation as to what I had just done, and the repercussions of my actions, I frantically chased after her as she made way for the door.

"NOOOO!!!! NOOO!!! PPLLEE-HHE-HEEE-HEEE-HEEAAAASE!!!! WAAAAHHH!!!"

At that point, my behaviour had regressed to something observable in infancy. My ex-girlfriend then proceeded to spout something I have heard far too often from members of the opposite sex in my time...

"GO AWAY, YOU... YOU FREAK!!!!!"

I raced after her as she left my house, and made it to her car before I was inadvertently punched in the face by a fist that couldn't possibly have been from her.

"'EY, LAD!!!!!! YOU BETTER NOT LAY A FINGER ON ME WIFE AGAIN , YOU DUMB SH*T!!!!!"

Although I couldn't pitch the face - as I had just been rendered completely blind and I heard the car drive off - the intonation, gruffness and idolect pointed to only one thing...

It was Duncan.



-- Edited by georgesheardexpress9 on Wednesday 1st of July 2015 07:27:37 PM



-- Edited by georgesheardexpress9 on Wednesday 1st of July 2015 07:37:24 PM

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