Well I picked up my test results from the GP today and it appears that I do not have any of the following:

HIV
Chlamydia
Hepatitis B
Hepatitis C

Result.

I felt so smug at the fact that I am officially STD-free that I actually toyed with the idea of taking a vow of chastity to preserve this state of purity forever.

Given how phenomenally crap my love life has been recently though that probably won’t be necessary.

I celebrated this news with a regular Monday night’s festivities: gym, Miranda (rather below-par episode today, I felt) and several hours of pointless and frankly depressing purusal on the interwebs (today’s search criteria: “having second thoughts about fertility treatment,” as I have been spending much of the day thinking I might be mental to be throwing huge amounts of cash that I do not have on something which is probably not going to yield much of a return).

All that I learned was that a lot of people have fertility treatment and it fails, then they get really depressed and start crying all the time, then they get even more depressed and their marriages break up and they fall into an ever-deeper spiral of depression.  Then they get a bit better.  This last bit was necessary so that they could manage to write an article about it, usually in the Daily Mail, that ever-present harbinger of doom harping on about of the transient nature of a woman’s fertility and the fact that it doesn’t matter anyway, no one can have it all and if we prioritise our careers or are just not lucky enough to meet the man of our dreams “in time” then we are harsh-faced and unsexed old hags, and if we do get married and have children then we are doomed to a life of domestic drudgery.  And don’t get them started on single mothers, who are basically responsible for last year’s riots, the recession and the war in Syria.

All this means, of course, is that some of these unfortunates don’t get better, and don’t go on to write depressing articles in the Daily Mail.  They just jump off a bridge.

That said, I still thought the “shocking statistic” quoted in the aforementioned rag of 90 out of 900 women having fertility treatment feeling “depressed” was surprisingly upbeat.  That means the other 90% must be happy as sandboys, presumably.

Unless it was a typo and they missed off the percentage sign.  I mean, I feel pretty depressed and I’ve not even started.  I even started watching Superscrimpers (sample suggestion: use a dishwasher tab to clean your garden furniture.  Instead of what?  Instead of BUYING NEW FURNITURE?)

I’m fairly sure that “have fertility treatment” was not on Superscrimper‘s recommended list of tips.  But then, presumably, neither is “have a baby,” which of course makes me feel so much better.

What am I doing?  I am mental.