...out of the worm-hole, into the fire!

Dear Worm,

I’m guessing that a lot of people who write to you for advice are people whose sins and character flaws have gotten them into all sorts of trouble, betrayers and degenerates in hot messes of their own making.  Well, let me assure you that I am not like that.  I’m a good guy.

In fact, I have a pretty good life.  I’m a nice guy with a funny sense of humor that has made people laugh and I’m employed (albeit, underemployed) and my family isn’t particularly unloving or unsupportive.  I like to go to concerts and movies, and I enjoy good food and beer.  I especially like artisan cheeses.  I probably eat a ton of fancy cheese every year.  Like, literally, a ton…two thousand pounds.  Well, actually, I only eat about a pound of cheese a day, but that’s still like four hundred pounds a year.  Somebody once called me a “bon vivant” because I bought so much expensive cheese.

I’m in good shape, though, despite all of the cheese.  That’s ‘cause I power-walk.  I walk around the lake pretty much every other day.  Occasionally I do yoga.  I’d play tennis, too, if I knew anybody who wanted to play.

So “what’s the problem?,” right?  Well, it’s in the romance department, in the bedroom section to be precise, if you know what I mean.  I’ll bet you didn’t see that comin’, huh?   ; )

Actually, it’s not exactly romance that’s my problem.  I’m actually extremely romantic, and I really know how to charm the ladies.  (Also, I’m classically and ruggedly good-looking, which sure doesn’t hurt.  You know that actor, Jake Gyllenhaal?  I look a lot like him.)  Pitching sweet woo has always come naturally for me, and I can usually make a woman feel dreamy in about ten minutes.  I’m able to hypnotize a woman into an erotic languor in which all she wants is to feel my sensuous touch.  It’s like they turn into jelly.  I don’t mean “hypnotize” in a weird roofie way, of course, but in a still-conscious and fully consensual way.  Trust me, it can be very romantic.

No, my difficulties pertain more to the physical aspects of lovemaking.  Now don’t get me wrong here, I’m not impotent.  It’s nothing like that.  It’s my toes.

Over the last decade or so, I’ve had some sort of fungus infecting my toenails, both feet.  At least I assume it’s a fungus.  Nothing’s been confirmed by a medical doctor yet.  (I don’t have any health insurance, and I refuse to wait in line at the Berkeley Free Clinic…I’m pretty sure there aren’t any doctors there, anyway.)  I wouldn’t even call ‘em toenails any more.  They’re more like the material that I imagine a horn is made of, like a rhinoceros horn.  It doesn’t hurt or anything, but they sure are nasty-looking.

Anyway, it’s gotten so that I have to wear socks when I’m in bed gettin’ my sex on.  For a while there I could get away with just dimming the lights, but now it’s to the point where my partner would be able to feel something was wrong even if she couldn’t see the problem.  And the socks are no real solution either, not by a long shot.  Sometimes I wonder if the socks aren’t as much of a turn-off as the bare toenails would be.  I can tell you this: it’s a real trick to feel virile and robust while you’re explaining that you can't take off your socks because your feet are so cold.

So how can I get past this?  I feel like I’m a dynamite catch except for this one thing.  But this fungus is driving ten misshapen, discolored little wedges between me and the ladies.  But I can’t just let this obstacle shut down my love life, can I?  What can I do?

Btw, I think of myself as quite independent — a rugged individualist, if you will — and so it’s really hard for me to reach out and ask for help this way.  But I’m at my wits’ end, Worm.  I need answers!

Signed,

Fungus Upon Nails Got Ultra Yucky

ps.  I’m attaching some pics so that you’ll have a clearer idea of what I’m talking about.

The Worm sez: Wtf; is one of your parents a troll?  That’s fucking disgusting.  Here’s what you gotta do.  First, call 911 and tell them your toes are rotting off and you need medics to come get you right away.  Second, once you’re stabilized, google “obamacare berkeley” and call the first phone number you find.  Third, don’t ever send me any more photos again ever, not under any circumstances.  And know that there’s no shame in seeking help, FUNGUY, none at all.  It’s needing help in the first place that makes you a loser.  Doing without assistance won’t redeem you.

********************

So sayeth The Worm.